


Carve Out My Heart

by ArabellaFaith



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Compartmentalization, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Multi, OT3, Oral Sex, POV Eliot Spencer, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Threesome - F/M/M, pseudo sex coaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArabellaFaith/pseuds/ArabellaFaith
Summary: Eliot falls in love like a lobster being boiled.  By the time he realizes what's going on, it's too late. But once he's there, he's all in.  There is nothing he wouldn't do for Parker and Hardison, no matter the cost to himself.  Teach Parker how to orgasm.  Be a safety net for Hardison during sex.  Even learn to love himself a little.Follows Eliot as he joins the team, grows with them, and finally finds a place to call home.





	1. Chapter 1

It started out as something Eliot understood. Responsibility. The team was his responsibility. No, he wasn’t planning the heists, and he wasn’t providing their cover stories, but he had a job to do. Not beating up goons, though that was a bonus - but to be the failsafe for them. When things went sideways - and in this line of work, it always did - he went in and got them out. Retrieval specialist. He made sure the whole team survived, even if it would mean that he didn’t.

It had been an easy decision to make, all things considered. He’d offered his life for far less worthy causes. These people, this unlikely, frankly crazy, unorthodox group of people, wanted to  _ help. _ They wanted to make the world a better place, one bad guy at a time.

For Eliot, who’d been crashing aimlessly through a desolate life for more years than he wanted to remember, it was something he could anchor himself to. And it wasn’t until he cemented the decision in his heart - this cause, this team, these people - that he realized just how desperately he’d needed that anchor.

He’d always wanted to protect people. Defend those weaker than himself. The military had been a natural choice, especially after his tumultuous childhood. And at the beginning, it  _ had  _ been about protection. But somewhere along the way that had gotten twisted up - the line between  _ defend _ and  _ attack before they do _ had been blurred. And then one day he’d crossed that line entirely.

_ For the greater good, _ they’d told him.  _ You do your country proud, _ they’d sai d, even while covering up his actions because no one could know exactly how far his commanders had been willing to go.

Really, it hadn’t been any moral leap to go from murdering for Uncle Sam to murdering for Damean Moreau.

No one had called it that, out loud. Murder. But Eliot had. He knew what he was. And one day when he realized he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror without despising everything about the man he’d become, he got out.

But the thing was, not actively killing people didn’t stop him from being a murderer.

Being with the team, though… He’d looked at himself in the mirror after that first job, and hadn’t felt the familiar urge to put a bullet between his eyes. He had pulled the pain-in-the-ass hacker out of the building before it exploded. He’d used the violence that always simmered in his blood to protect the team.

The man in the mirror was a murderer, yes, but he was something more, too. For a moment, Eliot had seen a defender there as well. It was something he hadn’t felt like in a long time, a lifetime, it seemed. And he wanted to feel it again.

So he’d signed onto the Leverage team. He let himself become responsible for them, just for a little while. Just on the job, just while they were helping people. Just until things went south again, or until he finally went rabid and needed to be put down. 

These people were  _ his _ until that happened. And he would keep them safe.

***

He didn’t know when, exactly, it went from professional responsibility to something more. He had a grudging respect for Nate, a much less grudging respect for Sophie, and the other two… They were annoying. And nuts. And so fucking childish. And innocent - far too innocent for an expert thief and genius hacker. And yeah, maybe Eliot could admit that he had a soft spot for them.

Nate and Sophie didn’t need protecting, not the way Hardison and Parker did. They weren’t as fragile, weren’t as unjaded as Hardison and Parker. They were all damaged, every member of the Leverage team, but there was something repairable about Hardison and Parker. And one day Eliot realized that even though he couldn’t be the one to fix them, he would defend them from anything that could cause them more damage, until they were ready to fix themselves.

Maybe the realization ought to have shocked him or sent him packing, but he’d accepted it without even a second thought.

He’d already been lost to them before he realized what was happening. Now that he was, all that was left was to follow through.

***

Love wasn’t a word Eliot used often. Not in that context. Not real, selfless, unconditional love. He knew it existed, somewhere out there in the world, but it wasn’t something that applied anywhere in his life. No one felt it for him, and he certainly didn’t feel it for anyone else.

Except -

Except one night, Parker broke into his apartment. She hadn’t even been subtle about it. One minute he’d been sipping a beer while analyzing a pre-recorded street fight, and the next Parker was dropping down from his skylight, lockpicks tumbling from her shaking fingers.

He had automatically gotten into a fighting stance, the part of his brain that never stopped expecting ambush already looking for weapons he could defend himself with, but then the scent of her skin had registered, and Eliot felt himself reset. His body wasn’t capable of hurting Parker any more. Hadn’t been for a long time. If, for whatever reason, she’d come to attack him, he doubted he would even be willing to defend himself.

His muscles had barely unclenched when the sight before him really registered, and then he was on edge again, this time in a far more deadly way. 

Parker’s hair was mussed, her lips reddened. She was wearing a shirt that was about five sizes too big for her, and her feet were bare. Her eyes were wild, terrified, lost.

Eliot’s mind narrowed to a few simple tasks. Protect Parker. Defend Parker. And murder whoever had put that fear in her eyes. He allowed himself a single moment of red hot fury, and then, like the methodical killer he was, calmly let himself get to work. He stood straight, blanked his face, left his arms at his side, hands open and non threatening.

Parker faltered for half a step, chest heaving, and then  _ threw _ herself at him. Even though he’d never thought himself to be someone people would run  _ to _ instead of  _ from, _ Eliot didn’t miss a beat.  _ Protect Parker. _ He put his arms around her and sheltered her against his chest. Nothing and no one would get through him. Nothing could get to her. 

He let her sob into his shirt for as long as he could bear, but he needed answers. “Parker.” She clung to him more tightly. “Sweetheart, look at me.” His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be, but still soft. Gentle. After a moment, she brought her face up. “Just give me a name.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and letting more tears spill down her face. “H-Hardison -”

Eliot blinked. Hardison would have called the look on his face  _ does not compute. _ But Hardison wasn’t there. Hardison was somewhere else, wherever Parker had just run away from. It didn’t- he couldn’t-

Drugged. Hardison had to have been drugged. Or there were fucking body snatchers. Something. Par ker’s fear and pain were real, but Hardison-

“It was m-me,” Parker said in a broken whisper.

  
  


_ “No,”  _ he growled. Because no matter what the fuck was going on, more than anything else, she needed to know that this wasn’t her fault.

“I- I think I  _ hurt _ him!”

The crimson tinged fury abated a little. Eliot took a deep breath, and was pleased that Parker mimicked it unconsciously. “Okay darlin’, tell me what happened.”

And she did. In fits and star ts, sometimes pacing, tugging wildly at her hair, sometimes with her face pressed against his chest and her voice so small it was breaking his fucking heart. A romantic evening turning into an intimate evening. Kissing, which she liked, and then more, which she wasn’t sure she liked but she wanted to try. She stumbled over admitting that sex with other people didn’t mean anything, it was just a somewhat icky thing that she’d tried a few times and didn’t see the appeal of, but that with  _ Hardison… _ She’d known it would be different, would be better, would be great- And then she went on about pretzels in a way that made him realize that they had to be a code word for something else, because no one liked pretzels that much, not even Parker. But he dismissed it because she was being so casually graphic that if Eliot wasn’t a hardened killer he would have blushed. Telling him about Hardison taking her to bed, undressing her, kissing her, being every bit the considerate, gentle lover that Eliot had expected he would be, and Eliot was beginning to feel like a voyeur just listening to it.

** **

“But then it started to feel…” She faltered, ducking her head so that her hair hid her face.

** **

“Bad?” Eliot asked. He knew that if she’d told Hardison she was hurt, or afraid, or even just unsure, he would have stopped. Immediately. But he also knew that Parker didn’t always communicate in a way that others could comprehend.

** **

“Not-  _ bad. _ It was buzzy-”

** **

_ Buzzy? _

** **

“And tight, almost like the adrenaline just before a jump, except that it was-” She glanced down, and Eliot didn’t need a translation to understand where she meant. “And my skin felt too small, and my body wouldn’t stop shaking, and everything felt like it was going to fall apart, like I was going to just  _ fracture, _ like I was going to be swallowed up, and I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t-”

** **

Eliot was fairly sure he understood now, and the last of his fury faded. He was still angry, angry that she’d been so frightened, angry that the sum of her life experiences had led up to this moment, angry that no one in the current situation was truly to blame, so there was no one he could punish for her. But he could offer another part of himself, if violence wasn’t what she needed from him.

** **

“What did you do?” he asked softly, without any expectation or judgement.

** **

“That- that thing you taught me the other day, with my shoulder and knee.”

** **

Eliot spared half a thought to feel bad for Hardison’s poor balls.

** **

“And then I… I just came here. I didn’t even think-” She looked up at him, for the first time with trepidation and maybe a dash of shame. Unsure of herself now, even though the basest part of her mind had told her to go to Eliot for shelter. He tried not to feel a surge of satisfaction that  _ he _ was what she had sought for unquestioning protection.

** **

“Good.”

** **

“Good?” Some of her hesitance bled out. “But-”

** **

“I ain’t even gonna ask how you knew where to find my place. But I’m glad you did. This is what I’m here for. If you’re afraid, or hurt, or don’t know where to go, you can come to me. No matter what.” It felt like revealing too much of himself, like laying himself uncomfortably bare, but the idea that there might be a time in the future where she  _ didn’t  _ come to him, where she ran off to god-knew-where and was  _ alone- _ That was worse than any discomfort he felt at being so open with her.

** **

“Okay,” she whispered, letting out a soft exhale of relief. “But- Hardison…”

** **

“Let me send him a message quick, let him know you’re alright, then we can talk, okay?”

** **

Parker nodded. Eliot went to find his phone, noticing when he picked it up that there were three missed calls from Hardison. He considered calling back, but didn’t want to take the time away from Parker. Hardison was probably panicking - and icing his junk - but Parker was the one in crisis.

** **

_ She’s with me, safe. Call you once she’s settled. _

** **

He had barely hit ‘send’ when his phone buzzed. And then again. And again.

** **

_ Tell her I’m sorry _

** **

_ so fucking sorry _

** **

_ I don’t know what happened _

** **

_ I swear to god I didn’t mean to _

** **

_ She’s okay? _

** **

_ tell her I _

** **

_ fuck I’m so sorry for whatever I did _

** **

Eliot almost changed his mind about calling. Hardison was obviously in bad shape, but one look at Parker, standing barefoot in the shadowy room, still looking too small, so uncertain, and Eliot shook his head.

** **

_ She doesn’t blame you. Try to relax. I’ll call soon. _

** **

Then he put down his phone and went to the couch, beckoning Parker to follow. She crossed to him but then stopped. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, chewing it uncertainly as she looked down at the empty cushions.

** **

“Wherever you want, Parker. However much space you want or don’t want.”

** **

She surprised him by sitting right up against him, drawing her knees to her chest and angling her body so that she was practically in his lap but not looking at him. He’d expected that she would want space. But he supposed that wanting the comfort of a physical presence without having to meet his eye made sense too. Tentatively, he brought his arm up, not touching, but almost encircling her. She latched onto it and wrapped it around her.

** **

“Is he angry?” she asked, voice heart-wrenchingly soft.

** **

“No, darlin. He’s worried about you. And he’s sorry.”

** **

“But he didn’t- I was the one who freaked out, and I  _ hurt _ him-”

** **

“Listen to me Parker. You did  _ nothing _ wrong. You didn’t know you were gonna get spooked. You’re  _ always _ allowed to change your mind and back out, even after you’ve started, even if it’s with someone you love.”

** **

“But what I did to him…”

** **

Eliot dropped his chin on top of her head, his chest warming when she snuggled back against him. “I ain’t sayin’ that violence should be your go-to. But Hardison would far rather you knee him in the balls than just lay there hurtin, I guaran-damn-tee you.”

** **

She was quiet for a moment, digesting that. Accepting the truth of it. She knew that Hardison would throw himself under a bus for her. She had to. Finally, she sighed. “It didn’t even hurt, really. I don’t know what happened. That’s never happened before.”

** **

Any part of Eliot that would’ve been uncomfortable discussing sex with Parker had been shut off, overridden by the need to take care of her. This wasn’t thief Parker, who whipped her shirt off in full view of him without even thinking, who was brilliant and strong and wild. This wasn’t the Parker who was dating his best friend, who he very carefully didn’t think about naked or in a sexual way at all.

** **

This was the Parker that was damaged, that slept with a stuffed bunny, that didn’t understand how to love people, or let people love her. 

** **

“How much experience do you have with sex?” he asked, deciding that open and frank was the best approach.

** **

Parker huffed. “Plenty, and let me tell you,  _ that _ has never happened before.”

** **

“With someone you cared about?” Eliot pressed. “Someone who was trying to make you feel good?”

** **

“Oh.” She fell silent, and Eliot’s gut clenched. 

** **

Very carefully, he set the dark thoughts away. If he let himself dwell on Parker’s sexual history, on whether she’d actually  _ wanted _ to have any of those encounters, he’d end up destroying something, and there were more important things to handle.

** **

“You ever had an orgasm before?”

** **

The silence deepened.

** **

Eliot let himself hold her a little closer, rubbing the top of her head with his cheek. This wasn’t him - he wasn’t this man. One who comforted hurts and nursed heart-ache. But for her, he could be.

** **

“Seems like kids pick up a lotta knowledge on the street. Faster than other kids. Learn a lot more, too. Even without school or books. But there are some things that slip through the cracks, y’know? Things that ain’t necessary to survive.”

** **

“I know how sex works,” she huffed.

** **

“But do you know how  _ you _ work? What you like, what feels good?”

** **

She shrugged against him.

** **

“You ever do it on your own?”

** **

“What, masturbate? Why would I do that?”

** **

Trust Parker to not understand why anyone would allow themselves unrestricted pleasure.

** **

“Because it feels good. Because it can be tension relief, or something to do to pass the time. Or so that you can learn what you like, so you can show a partner how to please you. So that they can do it for you while you’re in bed together.”

** **

Eliot could practically  _ feel _ the skepticism coming off her in waves. “Like that thing guys do in porn where they slap the girl’s vagina?”

** **

Eliot snorted. “I ain’t gonna insult you by tellin you that porn isn’t where  _ anyone _ should be gettin’ their sex-ed from, because I’m sure you already know that. But in my experience, no, I’ve never known a woman to actually want her-” he barely stopped himself from saying  _ pussy, _ realizing at the last second that colloquialisms weren’t the way to go, “vulva smacked. Most women I’ve been with prefer a gentle massage. Light rubbing.”

** **

“That’s what Hardison was doing.” She made a gesture Eliot couldn’t quite see, then pulled her hand back quickly. “Kinda… circling?”

** **

“I’m sure the man’s got talented fingers. Did it feel good?”

** **

“At first.”

** **

“But then?”

** **

“Then it felt… too good? Like it wasn’t just  _ there, _ it was spreading. And it was intense, and scary, and then I freaked out.”

** **

“He’s considerate in bed, not that I doubted he would be, with you. He was tryin to get you off.” He paused, not wanting to talk down to her, but not sure how much she needed spelled out. “To give you an orgasm.”

** **

“But I don’t need one. He could’ve just…”

** **

“Think of it like Christmas.”

** **

“Christmas?” Parker turned and looked at him with one brow raised, and Eliot shrugged one shoulder.

** **

“Yeah. They give you a present, you give them a present. And you probably really like your present, but you also really like the way it feels to give them a present too. You wanna make them happy.”

** **

Eliot knew that Parker loved Christmas, and that she didn’t give that many people presents. But the ones she did… they  _ mattered. _ It was important to her.

** **

“Giving your partner an orgasm is like givin them a present. It makes you feel good to give it to them. To make them happy. Hardison wanted to give you that present because he likes makin you feel good. That makes him happy.”

** **

“Hardison does give awesome Christmas presents,” Parker conceded. “But I think I prefer the diamonds to the orgasm. It was too…”   


“Out of control?”

** **

“Exactly!”

** **

“It can be damn near terrifying to let go, to be that vulnerable with someone. Especially if it ain’t a sensation you’re familiar with. Maybe you should think about trying it by yourself a few times before sharing it with someone else.”

** **

“Like a practice run.”

** **

“Like a practice run,” Eliot agreed. Now that she was relaxed against him, her voice more steady, Eliot allowed himself a moment to close his eyes at the absurdity of him telling one of his crew to masturbate so she could climax with her boyfriend. If someone had suggested the scenario to him five years ago, he actually would have laughed - and laughing wasn’t something he’d done a lot of back then.

** **

“Eliot?”

** **

“Hm?”

** **

“How do you stop yourself from running away?”

** **

Eliot stilled. It took a moment, but he understood what she was trying to ask. It wasn’t the same though. How was he supposed to explain that?

** **

He must have been quiet too long, because she went on. “You run  _ towards _ scary stuff all the time. I had a freak out with someone I  _ trust _ and I still bolted. How do you-”

** **

“It ain’t the same, Parker,” he said roughly. “I don’t-” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t ever feel like you oughtta force yourself to do somethin you aren’t ready for in bed. You should try talkin first before you hit and run, but there’s no reason to rush into somethin you can’t handle.”

** **

“I still wish I could be brave like you.”

** **

She didn’t understand -  _ couldn’t _ understand, but Eliot found himself answering before he could make himself shut up.

** **

“It’s not brave to put myself between you and danger. I ain’t runnin  _ into _ somethin I’m scared of. I’m runnin  _ from _ it. There’s nothing that could happen to me in a fight that’d be worse than them getting to you. Hurting you.” He broke off, cursing himself for the clumsy admission. She didn’t need to know the shit that went on in his head. She didn’t need to know that he would rather take sixteen hours of torture in a Bosnean prison than see her cry. That he’d rather have his back opened down to the bone  _ again _ than see Hardison hurt. That the team had somehow become more than just his responsibility on the job, that they were his family, and he’d die for each and every one of them.

** **

“Eliot-”

** **

“It’s nothin, Parker. Just- don’t feel like you gotta force yourself. When you  _ want _ it, it’s there. Until you’re ready, take your time. Run if you feel like you need to. But maybe first say somethin to Hardison. If he doesn’t hear or doesn’t notice, then yeah, he deserves the knee to the balls, but I promise you he never wants to scare you. Tell him, and he’ll stop. And you can get some space or talk it out or whatever works for you.”

** **

She was silent for a while, but this time, Eliot could tell she was thinking. Eventually she nodded and stood up. Eliot ignored how cold his arms felt without her in them.

** **

“I should go and apologize for kneeing him instead of talking to him.”

** **

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but it might be a good idea to talk it out,” Eliot agreed. She turned to go - presumably out the way she came in - but Eliot caught her hand. “Why don’t you let me drive you? You shouldn’t be leapin around on roofs barefoot and with no pants.”

** **

Parker looked down, as if realizing for the first time how undressed she was, then laughed. “Fiiiiine,” she said, drawing out the word as though she was annoyed, though she was smiling.

** **

“Lemmie just grab you some pants and let Hardison know we’re on our way.”

** **

He dialed Hardison on his way to the bedroom. Hardison picked up before Eliot had even reached his dresser.

** **

“Is she okay?”

** **

“Yeah, she’s fine. She was just a little spooked is all.” He dug through the neatly folded clothes for a pair of sweats with a drawstring. None of his shoes would fit her, but at least he could cover her ass. 

** **

“I don’t know what happened-”

** **

“I’ll let her explain it all once I drop her off, but it wasn’t your fault. She freaked, ran instead of talkin to you about it, and everything’s fine. I’m gonna bring her back and let you two talk.”

** **

_ “Thank you,” _ Hardison breathed. Eliot tried not to let himself hear how much more gratitude there was in those words than a simple ride home merited.

** **

“It’s no problem,” he said gruffly. “She’ll be there in ten.” He hung up before Hardison could say anything else, then went to give Parker the sweats.

** **

It wasn’t until Parker had slipped through the door at Hardison’s place that Eliot let his forehead drop against the steering wheel. That he thought about what he’d told her, about  _ wanting _ to take the beatings himself because it was better than seeing her hurt - and about how much more he felt for her, for them, than he had for anyone else that he’d ever worked with.

** **

And he knew that it applied to the others as well, but it was time for him to acknowledge something that had crept up on him before he’d had a chance to realize it, to stand a chance of fighting it off. He cared about them all. But he was in love with Parker.

** **

It might’ve been a shameful discovery under different circumstances. If he had any intention to act on it any way than he already did. If he wanted her for himself, if he could take advantage of it in any way. But he wouldn't -  _ couldn't.  _ Instead, the knowledge settled like a warm weight around his heart. It didn’t change anything at all. It just… was.

** **

He drove home quietly, fell asleep alone, and dreamed of Parker’s eyes lighting up when Hardison gave her a Christmas present.

** **

***

** **

Eliot wasn't sure what he would’ve done if things had changed after that night. If Parker would have started being small and unsure around him all the time, or embarrassed because of the things she’d revealed to him. Or if Hardison would have been unable to contain his emotions about the situation - or worse, if he’d become jealous that Parker had run to Eliot for help.

** **

He didn’t have to think about it, though. Because when the sun rose, it was business as usual. There was maybe a few more loaded glances from Hardison, and Parker might have sat closer to him during their briefing than before, but that was it. They were still  _ them _ and he was still him, and life went on.

** **

He wondered, from time to time, if Parker had done as he suggested and learned how to pleasure herself. If she’d gotten comfortable sharing that with Hardison. What they looked like, wrapped around each other, taking and giving pleasure equally.

** **

One night he’d taken a woman to bed and ended up fantasizing about them together, the two of them happy and safe and loving each other, and the next morning when he’d looked in the mirror he hadn’t seen a murderer or a protector. He’d seen a bastard, and he’d worn that shame invisibly around his throat for days after.

** **

But he didn’t ever ask Parker or Hardison how things were going, because it was none of his damn business, and they didn’t offer.

** **

Until one day, on a rare outing between jobs, Hardison pulled him aside.

** **

“Listen man, I uh, I think Parker’s gonna come talk to you later.”

** **

Eliot looked around, spotting Parker just ahead of them talking with Sophie, then furrowed his brows. “Why can’t she just talk to me now?”

** **

“It’s… private.”

** **

Eliot blinked. His brain switched from  _ growl-tease-begrudgingly accept comradery _ to  _ protect-shelter-take care of no matter what _ in half a second flat. “What’s wrong?”

** **

Hardison rubbed the back of his neck in a vulnerable gesture. “It’s her thing to tell. I’m only tellin you because- well because you need to know that it’s all good.”

** **

“What?”

** **

“Just… Just remember that I’m on board.” When it was obvious that those words made even less sense to Eliot, Hardison tried again. “Look, I love her. Not in the picket fence divorce after one point five kids way. In the all-in way. I  _ need _ her to be whole, and happy, and I’m fine with that happening any way it can. There isn’t anything I’d deny her. Especially not something that’ll help her.”

** **

“What the fuck is going on, Hardison,” Eliot growled. A tight knot of anxiety was coiled in his stomach. Yes, he knew that Hardison loved Parker. Yes, he knew it was actual love, not possessive, selfish love. What the hell did that have to do with him, or whatever Parker needed to talk to him about?

** **

“It’s fine. It’s all fine. Just remember that when she comes to you, okay?”

** **

No, it was  _ not _ okay, Hardison didn’t just get to dump that random crap on him and then waltz off leaving Eliot with no idea what the fuck he was talking about! But then Hardison had already caught up with the girls, and Nate sidled next to Eliot in that way of his and was talking about something Eliot was sure he should be paying attention to- and the moment to demand more answers from Hardison was gone.

** **

It wasn’t until hours later that he got them. He knew Parker was coming, so he’d left the skylight unbolted - ignoring the fact that she could just as easily come through the front door like any other person - and stayed up watching sports until he heard her drop into the room behind him.

** **

He sighed and held up a rootbeer for her without even glancing back.

** **

“Hardison told you I was coming, huh.”

** **

“Hardison babbled some cryptic shit, yeah,” he growled. “Wanna tell me what’s goin on?”

** **

He looked up when she came around the couch, and immediately set the drinks away. She wasn’t Thief Parker. She wasn’t Small Parker quite yet, but he could see her shrinking in on herself, hands clasped together in front of her body as she tried to cling to her bravado. 

** **

“Hey,” he whispered, holding out his hand. His own switch had happened without him even noticing. His demeanor changing, softening for her, making space for her to lean on him, literally and metaphorically.

** **

She opened her mouth once, twice, continued to shrink until she looked like a shadow of herself. Then she finally took his hand, eyes shining even though she didn’t allow any tears to fall, and said, “I need help.”

** **

Eliot pulled her close. She was still for a single heartbeat, and then melted against him, leaning against his strength, burrowing against his chest like it was home.

** **

“Just tell me what you need, darlin,” Eliot said, voice still low, offering her everything that was in his power to give.

** **

“I… I can’t make it work.”

** **

Though he had a sudden suspicion, Eliot still asked, “Make what work?”

** **

“The- gift giving thing.” Her voice had gone so soft that he barely heard her. But he did hear, and his stomach twisted.

** **

“You mean with Hardison you haven’t been able to-”

** **

“I mean not at  _ all!” _ she burst out, voice trembling. “I just  _ can’t. _ I can’t let go, I can’t relax, I can’t just-” She stopped, taking in a ragged breath and daring to look up at him for a split second before looking away. “I think I’m broken.”

** **

“No,” Eliot growled. “You’re not-”

** **

“That’s what Hardison said. We talked, and talked, and  _ talked, _ and he suggested… He thought that maybe, the reason I can’t let go, is because I never feel safe enough.”

** **

“Darlin-”

** **

“I know I’m safe,” she sighed, pointing to her head. “I  _ know _ it, but I can’t ever really feel it, I guess. You know? It’s so stupid, so  _ stupid, _ but I can’t just fix it! I tried going to my warehouse, to my vault, to the bomb shelter, and none of it worked no matter what I did-” she shook her head, holding up her hand when Eliot might have said something. “But then he asked me where I feel safest.  _ Truly _ safe.” And she looked up at him, and Eliot knew.

** **

It made his chest hot and tight even while his stomach twisted so hard he thought it was going to tear itself to shreds.

** **

She didn’t know what she was asking him. She knew the act, she knew the trust, but she didn’t realize what it would do to him. She couldn’t, or she wouldn’t ask. He could acknowledge that much. Parker wasn’t selfish in the way she cared about people, wasn’t malicious, so she couldn’t know what she was asking.

** **

But it didn’t matter. Because if she had handed Eliot a butcher knife and asked him for his heart, he would have carved it out for her. He’d already been doing it, for years he’d been cutting out pieces of himself and offering them up to his team, his family, because he didn’t know any other way to be. Didn’t know any other way to love, than to give and give and give.

** **

Hardison’s cryptic words from earlier became abundantly clear. It was permission. Hardison understood what Parker needed and he wanted her to have it. Even if he couldn’t provide it. He had been telling Eliot that it was okay. That he could share this intimacy with Parker, despite their relationship. He’d been giving his blessing.

** **

And the lack of it was the only thing that could have made Eliot think twice, made him stall, or balk. He wouldn’t help Parker by hurting Hardison. They knew that, so they’d already addressed it.

** **

Which meant there was nothing Eliot could say, nothing he could do, except squeeze Parker’s hand and whisper, “tell me what you need.”

** **

The relief on her face was payment enough for any pain or hardship this would cause him. She blossomed under his unquestioning acceptance, her eyes warming, her tremors ceasing. “Just- hold me? This…  _ you _ are my safe place, Eliot.”

** **

And just like that, it was all worth while. There was a reason that these people were the only ones on the whole fucking earth that Eliot would get on his knees for, and it wasn’t because of what he could do for them. It was because of the way they trusted him, the murderer, the bastard; the way they  _ needed _ him.

** **

Caretaker.

** **

Protector.

** **

They needed the best parts of him, and they had absolute faith in those sides of him. Who could resist that siren song?

** **

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get more comfortable.”

** **

Parker took his hand with blind trust. She let him lead her to the bedroom, let him dim the room, because he understood that some things were easier when you didn’t have to see them in the harsh light, let him settle against the headboard and pull her between his knees. She settled there easily, her back against his chest, her head cradled on his shoulder.

** **

“How are you most comfortable?” he asked softly. She thought a moment, then slipped off her tight black leggings, taking her panties - if she’d worn any - along with them. In quick, efficient movements, she pulled her hair up and out of the way, the same as she did before going through a laser grid. “Put my hands where you want them, darlin. Once they’re there, they won’t move.” 

** **

He didn’t have to promise it. His word was vow enough.

** **

She wrapped one of his arms around her torso, anchoring her to him, his palm splayed wide on her ribs, and maneuvered his other hand so that she could rest her cheek against it. She nuzzled into him for a moment, the soft skin of her face cool against the heat of his calloused hand. His throat felt tight, so he cleared it before speaking again.

** **

“Tell me what you like,” he asked, very carefully not looking at the way her bare legs were splayed between his, not allowing himself to see whether she kept herself bare or neat or wild down there. He didn’t want to know, wouldn’t invade her privacy that way, even though that seemed asinine in this situation.

** **

_ Not yours, _ he reminded himself sharply. It cut like a knife, and he clung to the pain.

** **

“Talk to me.” She was already sliding her hand down, down where he refused to look. “I like… I like to hear it. To block out the rest of my mind. Hardison-” She stopped for a moment, caught on the name, suspended on the chasm between them that was her love for Hardison, the man she  _ wanted. _ The reason she would never be Eliot’s - but it was just one of a million reasons she would never be his, wasn’t it? Even if she didn’t have Hardison, Eliot would never have pursued her.

** **

“-he guides me. On my own, the voices in my head are too loud.”

** **

“Do you want me to talk to you the way he would?” Because Eliot would, for her. He would pretend to be the man she  _ truly _ wanted. Would carve this part of himself away for her too. But then she said-

** **

“No. Just… just talk to me, Eliot. Just the way you do. The way you make all the noises go away.”

** **

And hell, maybe that didn’t make a lot of sense to Eliot, or maybe it made just a little too much, but then he lowered his head until his lips were right next to her ear and pitched his voice low and said, “touch yourself, Parker.”

** **

And she did.

** **

He didn’t see it, wouldn’t allow himself that, but he could  _ feel _ it. The way her body tensed, the quick intake of her breath. He could feel it as though he’d touched her with his own fingers - and wasn’t that some new kind of torture? Feeling her but not feeling her, holding her but not holding her? “Slow and easy, sweetheart. There’s no rush. Just go slowly, softly. Find the place that feels good and circle it.”

** **

Eliot knew women. He’d made a study of them, long before he’d ever thought to make a study of men too, before it had ever become part of a job, before it had almost lost its appeal. So there was still some part of him that had clung to this, to something that he’d enjoyed before it could become tainted with what he’d allowed himself to turn into. There was a comfort in knowing what a woman liked, in knowing that the mechanics were the same but every woman was uniquely, beautifully different. There was an awe, in learning what each woman preferred, the things that were specific to her, the things that were similar to others… It was like a work of art, the lines and brush strokes of them different but each a masterpiece.

** **

Parker was the pinnacle of artistic beauty. She was the Old Masters, the Renaissance, a genius that hadn’t yet been discovered and one that wouldn’t be found for a hundred years more. She was exquisite, breathtaking, delicate and strong, bold and fragile. She rose and fell against him, each stroke another line on the canvas that was  _ Parker, _ until he was aching at the beauty of her pleasure.

** **

He murmured encouragement in her ear, telling her how perfect she was, how much he wanted her to savor each moment she touched herself. He could hear how wet she was, could feel each time she slid a finger inside herself and tightened around it. But his hands never moved. He kept the one splayed hot and possessive on her ribs and the other cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking softly over her skin.

** **

“So beautiful,” he whispered. She keened and pressed back against him, her body starting to tremble. He knew she was nearing her peak, and that this would be the most difficult obstacle for her. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you Parker.” He dared to let his tongue trace ever so softly along the shell of her ear. His mouth followed the delicate line of it and his lips found her earlobe. “I’m here,” he whispered. “That’s it. You can let go, because I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I’ll never let you fall.” His teeth set against the soft flesh and he bit down, ever so gently. She arched, crying out at the sensation. “I’m right here, Parker. Let me catch you. Just let go. Let go, and I swear, I’ll keep you safe.” His breath ghosted across her face, and then she went taut as a piano wire, her eyes screwed shut, his name a scream on her lips that he would never forget as long as he lived-

** **

And she was sobbing with it, shaking and restless, unsure how to handle the aftershocks that were shooting through her like electricity. Eliot kept a tight hold on her, whispering direction in her ear. “Don’t move your hand,” he told her. “Keep it there, light, soft. Don’t press. Just let it rest against you. Breathe.” She shuddered, each pulse of pleasure causing a visible physical reaction. Eliot could feel a twin reaction within his own body at every jolt.

** **

When the last one died away, she collapsed, boneless, against him. Then she sobbed again and turned in his arms.

** **

Eliot didn’t allow himself to acknowledge the feel of her wet heat soaking through the material of his jogging shorts, or the press of her breasts against his chest. Instead he focused on the hitching of her breath, the shaking of her shoulders. He held her tightly and stroked her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her the same way he would to a spooked filly.

** **

“I’m sorry-” she finally choked out. “I don’t know why I’m c-crying. It was- it was so-”

** **

“It’s alright,” he assured her, hoping desperately that she didn’t notice the one bodily reaction that he couldn’t quite get full control of. “It happens.” And he knew that it did. He’d had plenty of women cry their way through an orgasm with him, for one reason or another. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Just let yourself feel whatever you feel. Let go.”

** **

She cried against his chest for another few minutes, until her body stopped shaking and was wrung dry. He could tell she was exhausted, pushed right to her physical and emotional limit. “I’ve got you,” he promised again. And he did. He had her, no matter what.

** **

Her breath escaped in a soft sigh, and on it was his name. He’d never heard it said so sweetly. His errant cock twitched, even as he damned it.

** **

“Oh-” She pulled back a fraction of an inch, realizing that his body had reacted to her. In that moment, Eliot would have cut the fucking thing off if it would have saved her doubt or concern. “You’re-”

** **

“It’s nothin,” he dismissed. “Not important.”

** **

She looked up at him, lower lip caught between her teeth in that uncertain way, and asked, “do you want me to-”

** **

Eliot’s cock deflated so fast that under any other circumstances it would have been comical. He’d slit his own throat before he allowed her to touch him out of guilt or pressure.

** **

_ “No.” _

** **

She froze against him, unsure for the first time since she’d gotten into his bed, and Eliot forced himself to gentle his tone. “It’s nothin, sweetheart. A mechanics thing, no more. Already gone, see? Just relax.”

** **

And she looked at him for a moment longer, trying to read him the way she might read a blueprint of a museum, but then nodded and relaxed. Her head rested against his chest, right over his heart, and wasn’t that just poetic? 

** **

She lay there, listening to the steady beat of what was already hers, had been hers for longer than he’d even realized, would always be hers. It lulled her into a doze. Eliot watched her rest. If he was another man, his head might be spinning with thoughts, doubts and hopes, fears and possibilities. But he knew his place, and he blanked his mind. Nothing was going to change. He’d helped her, given her something she needed, and that was it.

** **

Now, all there was to do was enjoy the feel of her in his arms. To let the heat of her sink into his bones, to memorize it so that he could call back the sensation on darker days.

** **

He drove Parker home half an hour later, once she’d woken and dressed. His cheek was still burning from where she’d pressed a kiss to his skin, his chest tight from the hug she’d given him as she whispered a heartfelt  _ thank you _ to him.

** **

His body’s reaction to that was easy to ignore. It was a simple matter of control to appear unaffected, to tug on her pony tail teasingly and tell her in a gruff, gentle way to get her ass outta his truck.

** **

It was just as simple to drive to a bar two towns over, find a pretty blonde looking for a night of no-strings-attached fun, and indulge in the wants he wouldn’t ever allow to see the light of the day.

** **

The next morning, the man he saw in the mirror with haggard eyes wasn’t a murderer or a protector or even just a bastard. He was a  _ Sick Fucking Bastard, _ and Eliot felt more shame in that than he had from anything else in a long time.

** **

***

** **

Parker never knew what he saw in the mirror, because he was always careful to keep those revelations private. And because he never let a single thought about it show while they were with the team. They were the same as they ever were. Nothing changed. 

** **

Eliot thought that was the end of it. Both wanted it to be the end and feared it was - and despised himself for that fear. 

** **

And when Parker showed up at his place a few days later, he forced himself to smother any feelings of his own, because this wasn’t about him. It was about Parker, standing there with flushed cheeks and speaking in a tone that wavered between frustration and desperation.

** **

“I still can’t do it on my own,” she admitted in a rush.

** **

Eliot didn’t even bother to ask if she’d tried having Hardison help her yet. Obviously that was still a little way off. “You’ll get there,” he assured her. “It’s just like any other skill. Takes some time to get the hang of.”

** **

“Can I- can we…”

** **

“Practice?”

** **

She nodded, haltingly, hesitatingly, cutting Eliot with the uncertainty in her because didn’t she know that all she had to do was tell him what she wanted and he would offer it to her on a silver platter? He hugged her, marvelling as he always did at how  _ small _ her body was, all that explosive energy and hard muscle packed into this tiny frame, then kissed her forehead gently and led her to his bedroom.

** **

This time, she unravelled in his arms far more quickly, with his voice whispering filthy words of praise in her ear and his name on her lips. She was sleepy and satisfied when she turned to press her face against his neck. More confident, now that she knew the first time hadn’t been a fluke. That she could make this happen again, any time she wanted.

** **

The way she smiled at him when she turned back to wave goodbye after he dropped her off made the bleeding he felt inside more than worth it.

** **

***

** **

The realization that Eliot loved Hardison too, shouldn’t have come as such a shock. He’d taken his feelings for Parker in stride. He’d barely even been surprised. When he looked back, it should have been the logical assumption that if he loved Parker then of course he loved Hardison. But he’d been complacent and careless and it had sent him reeling.

** **

Maybe it was because there were two versions of himself. The gruff hitter who barely put up with their antics, and the hidden beast inside whose only instincts were to take care of them and defend them. It was easy to see two Parkers as well. Wild, fearless Thief Parker, and Small Parker, who came to him to chase away her demons.

** **

In their day to day lives, there was almost no crossover. The face he put on for the world dealt with Thief Parker. The beast inside took care of Small Parker. There had been a few times over the years that the beast was unleashed in the light of day - torturing information out of a man in three and a half minutes to find where his partners had taken Hardison was the first example that came to mind - but those situations had thankfully been far and few between.

** **

Eliot knew there were other sides to Hardison, too, more depth to him than the cocky, nerdy hacker. But Hardison was less damaged than Parker. He didn’t  _ need _ Eliot the way she did. Or at least, that’s what he’d thought.

** **

And then Hardison came along and proved him wrong.

** **

They’d been sitting down in the bar relaxing after finishing a job. Nate and Sophie had gravited off to a private corner and were whispering animatedly to each other, oblivious to the others now. Eliot was just thinking that it was time for him to duck out, when Hardison’s hand dropped tentatively on his shoulder.

** **

The look on his face made Eliot wonder for half a second if there was some latent jealousy coming to the surface, but then Hardison sat down beside him, closer than usual, and rubbed the back of his neck in that trying-to-hide-insecurities way of his. The beast raised its head and sniffed the air, waiting to come when needed.

** **

“Listen man, I never got the chance to thank you. For- for what you did for Parker.”

** **

Eliot turned his face away. “Don’t,” he said simply.

** **

“No, I mean it. She needed it, and I needed her to have it, but I couldn’t help-”

** **

“Stop.” He put his drink down with a  _ thunk, _ looking across the bar to where Parker was practicing her grifter giggles. Half of them sounded maniacal. “There’s nothin I wouldn’t do for her if she really needs it. Understand?”

** **

He thought that Hardison might. No, he wouldn’t suspect that Eliot  _ loved _ Parker, not that way at least, but he would understand that there was no line Eliot would not cross for her.

** **

“And me?” The soft words took Eliot off guard. What did Hardison need that Eliot could provide? But still, the answer was the same. He didn’t even need to consider.

** **

“Yes.”

** **

Hardison let out a slow breath, his shoulders losing their tension.

** **

“Tell me what you need, Alec.” The beast waited, patient, attentive, eager to provide whatever it could.

** **

“I need…” He shook his head, eyes swinging from Parker back to Eliot. “I need to never do that to her again.”

** **

Eliot didn’t have to ask to know what Hardison meant. “You won’t-”

** **

“I don’t know that. I  _ can’t. _ She’s already come a long way, and she’s ready to try again, but I can’t-” He stopped, drawing in a ragged breath. “That night, when she took off… The look on her face as she ran off- I felt like- like I had  _ ra-” _ He broke off sharply, unable to say the ugly word.

** **

Uncaring if anyone saw, Eliot wrapped his hand around the back of Hardison’s neck and squeezed. Reassuring. Anchoring.

** **

“When she told me, later, what had happened, I felt  _ sick. _ That she had been unsure and afraid while I’d been just  _ going- _ I can’t do that again. And she says she’s ready to try, but I…”

** **

“Tell me what you need, Alec,” Eliot repeated, voice pitched low. “It’s yours.”

** **

“Can you- would you just… Just hold her, the way you do. You’re her safe place, Eliot. You’re  _ our _ safe place. And if you’re there, then-”

** **

And then it hit Eliot, a jolting impact that sent shock waves through him the same way that a sledge hammer would. It didn’t show, on the outside. Not even a twitch. But inside, Eliot was knocked flat, breathless, battered from the realization, from the strength of it and what it meant.

** **

_ You’re  _ our  _ safe place, _ he heard Hardison say again.

** **

_ Stupid, _ Eliot thought to himself. He should have known. Of course he should have known.

** **

He didn’t say,  _ I love you. _ He said, “tonight?”

** **

Hardison searched his face, looking for something - any sign of reticence, maybe? - but there was none to be found. Because there was nothing he would deny them, nothing in his power to give that he would not do so eagerly. 

** **

When Hardison was satisfied, he nodded.

** **

Eliot stood, dropping money onto the counter even though they could drink for free. He gestured across the bar, and Hardison smiled.

** **

***

** **

Though Eliot had clear preferences for his sexual partners, and he allowed people to make their own assumptions about what that said about his orientation, it was absolutely no hardship for him to get into the same bed as Hardison. The idea of trying to justify  _ it’s not gay if there’s a chick buffer _ didn’t even cross his mind. Sex was sex, however it happened, and as long as everyone involved was enthusiastically consenting, then he didn’t really give a damn.

** **

But this… this wasn’t really sex. He didn’t know what to call it. Providing supervision? Being a sexual watchdog? Not that the label mattered. They could call him a sex toy and he’d still be here.

** **

Was all this abnormal? Absa-fuckin-lutely. But it was what his people needed, and he was helpless to do anything but provide.

** **

He’d left his jacket down at the bar, stripped out of his overshirt and boots, and settled against the headboard.

** **

Parker glanced over at him, her smile bolstered at the sight of him there, then turned back to Hardison. “Ready?”

** **

“Yeah, babe.” There was still a waiver of trepidation in his voice, but then he glanced over at Eliot too, and the doubt fled. He cupped Parker’s face in his hands and kissed her. Softly at first, gently, then deeper and more insistent. Parker finally gave up any pretense of restraint and launched herself forward, legs going around his waist.

** **

Eliot heard his soft huff from across the room and smiled. He’d known they would be like this. He  _ knew _ them. Through and through. He knew Hardison would want to go slow, that Parker would dive right in. That they would be passionate and loving and eager for each other. He even knew that Hardison would throw a questioning glance up at him before lowering Parker on the bed, waiting for Eliot to nod his permission. And he knew that Parker would settle against him like she’d been made to fit there, or maybe that Eliot had been made to fit  _ her. _

** **

He’d never had fantasies about being in their bed to keep their fears at bay, but he’d fantasized about being in their bed. He’d had dreams, almost as often lately as his nightmares, of being allowed intimacy with them, of unwrapping them like gifts, of spending hours giving them pleasure in every way he could.

** **

He hadn’t ever dreamed that he would be clothed as he held Parker. That he would be keeping his hands anchored to the safe zones, the places he was allowed to touch without overstepping. And yet, this was better than any of the dreams he’d had, because they were really there, lying on top of him, exchanging breathless moans as they kissed and touched.

** **

Eliot didn’t mean to watch. He’d intended to keep his eyes carefully averted, as he’d done when it was just Parker. But he found that no matter how fiercely he ordered himself to, he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t turn from the sight of Hardison kissing his way down Parker’s pale belly, of those long, nimble fingers making a stark contrast against her thigh as he spread her open. He watched, helpless to do otherwise, while Hardison lowered his mouth between Parker’s legs and started to drive her wild with pleasure.

** **

Parker pressed back against Eliot more tightly, her eyes squeezing closed and fluttering open while she made quiet, cut off little sounds. Before, Eliot had talked her through this part. Had gentled her with whispered praise, letting the slow rumble of his voice wash over her and soothe her trembling.

** **

But they weren’t in his bed, this time. They were in Hardison’s, and so Eliot stayed quiet. Parker strained against him, trying desperately to reach that elusive peak. Hardison worked his magic over her, worshipping her body. Sweat broke out over her skin. When her eyes closed next, she didn’t open them. The hitches in her breath were starting to sound like sobs.

** **

She was desperate, lost, fighting to try and force her body to cooperate instead of allowing it to happen.

** **

_ “Eliot?” _ Her voice cracked on the frightened plea. Hardison raised his head, eyes wide and wild, and Eliot gently but firmly pushed him back down before wrapping his arm around Parker again.

** **

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “Just let go. I’m right here.  _ We’ve _ got you.”

** **

And just like that, her release swept through her. Her thighs tightened around Hardison’s head, her back bowed, her head rolled against Eliot’s shoulder. Her hands had been scrabbling for something to grip and lost in the throes of her orgasm, she reached up and buried her fingers into Eliot’s hair. She  _ tugged, _ right down at the roots, with each wave of pleasure, and Eliot stopped breathing. He bit his tongue hard enough to swallow blood just to keep himself from coming against her back.

** **

In another few moments, she was whimpering, overstimulated. Hardison pulled away. The love and joy and pride in his eyes felt like a physical caress, even when it wasn’t directed at Eliot.

** **

“Baby,” he murmured, his smile growing, “Parker, baby-”

** **

Parker untangled one hand from Eliot’s hair to grab Hardison’s shoulder and yank him forward. “Please,” she begged, “don’t stop. Inside me. Alec,  _ now-” _

** **

She didn’t have to ask twice. Hardison rose over her with more grace than he should have been capable of with his long limbs and blanketed her body. Eliot might’ve had a thought of trying to slip out, but Parker’s hand was still in his hair and then her and Hardison’s weight was pressing him down, and he couldn’t have left unnoticed if he’d wanted to, and he really,  _ really _ didn’t want to.

** **

He  _ felt _ it when Hardison slipped inside Parker’s body. Each slow thrust of his hips drove Parker back against Eliot. There was no disguising the hard-on there, so he could only hope that she was too distracted by Hardison to notice it.

** **

Hardison talked, just like Parker had said he did. He dropped praise and adoration from his lips, told her how good she felt, how happy he was, how much he loved her. The words and the gentle friction on already sensitive skin were making Parker tense up again. Hardison moaned when she started clamping around him, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

** **

“I- I don’t know if I can,” she admitted raggedly. Hardison froze and would have pulled back again if Eliot hadn’t caught the back of his neck in a strong grip.

** **

“You want him to stop?” he asked Parker gently. She took in a breath, let it out slowly. Relaxed fractionally. Shook her head.

** **

“No. Don’t stop. Please.”

** **

Hardison looked from Parker’s face up to Eliots, his own kind of plea there. Eliot rolled his hips, pushing Parker up onto Hardison’s cock. They both gasped at the sensation.

** **

“Eliot-”

** **

Eliot had never heard Hardison say his name like that, breathless and tight with desire. His grip on Hardison’s neck turned into a caress, and he savored the sound of Hardison’s moan.

** **

“Just like that,” he urged them. Hardison thrust on his own the next time, slow and steady. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered in Parker’s ear. “You already won. This is your celebration. If it comes again, just let it. Let him give you every ounce of pleasure you want.” 

** **

She nodded, wrapping her legs around Hardison to urge him on. Her breath came short and sharp as he cautiously sped up his thrusts. Hardison glanced up at Eliot, dazed pleasure and something like adoration on his face, and Eliot inclined his head ever so slightly in answer, stroking Hardison’s neck again.

** **

Time seemed to catch, to stretch, to linger as they stayed connected like that. The rhythmic jostle of the bed went on, their gasping breaths filled the room. Eliot drank it in. He embraced Parker’s second orgasm crashing through her, savored Hardison’s rambling, half incoherent words of praise, of pleasure, of gratitude. He allowed himself time to bask in the glow of their love as sweat dried on their skin and their heartbeats finally slowed.

** **

But once Hardison shifted off Parker, Eliot forced himself to move as well. He settled Parker against Hardison’s now prone form and rose from the bed. Parker made a soft sound of protest. Hardison caught his hand.

** **

If Parker had said  _ stay, _ or if Hardison had said,  _ we want you here, _ Eliot might have given in. He knew he could deny them nothing. But instead, Hardison asked, “you’re going?”

** **

“Stuff to do,” Eliot answered, kissing the tips of Hardison’s fingers to lessen the sting of it. He shoved his feet into his boots, grabbed his shirt, and was at the door before Parker’s voice made him pause, turn.

** **

“Eliot-”

** **

He could hear the gratitude in her voice, the affection. And that was enough. They didn’t need to thank him. They just needed to need him. It was enough.

** **

“I know,” he replied to her unspoken words. Then he left, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

** **

***

** **

It would have surprised Eliot to know that Hardison and Parker discussed him after that. Obviously, he knew that they spoke about him from time to time - they’d talked to each other about the times one of them had come to him, after all - but he didn’t think they ever talked about him in that context.

** **

He wasn’t programmed that way. To expect to be on someone’s mind, let alone two someones. He was supposed to be an afterthought. A failsafe. The place they turned to when everything else had gone to hell and they needed shelter.

** **

The port in the storm doesn’t expect to be a vacation spot. It just serves its purpose and doesn’t ask for thanks.

** **

It wasn’t until much later that he would learn that Parker and Hardison  _ did _ talk about him, at length and in depth.

** **

It might have come to light sooner, if they weren’t all so good at partitioning off their lives. None of them brought up the night Eliot had spent in their bed. There were no tangled exchanges on cons, no demands made of each other. Just the team, doing what they did best.

** **

It seemed that for a while, things settled into their own brand of normality. There were no more late night visits from Parker, and no more requests from Hardison. Eliot shuffled into the background without complaint, without expecting anything else. He watched them, he kept his mouth shut and his unfair desires to himself, and was happy for them.

** **

But Parker and Hardison had been talking, and they were ready for more. It just so happened that a terrorist tried to kill them along with most of the country, and that put their plans in motion.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot slept for most of the plane ride back from DC. Usually he didn’t sleep much, and he  _ really _ didn’t like sleeping around strangers, but there were times when he didn’t have much choice.

** **

Having taken both beatings and bullets in the last twenty-four hours, he was stretching the limits of his physical capabilities. He needed rest, and while a plane wasn’t ideal, the enclosed space actually made for minimal risk to Parker and Hardison, so he let himself sleep.

** **

He didn’t see the way they watched him, or the significant looks they shared over his prone form.

** **

His eyes opened when the plane landed, his brain taking a moment to reset itself. He saw Hardison and Parker safe at his sides and relaxed. Then he started to think about his next moves. Like it or not - definitely not - he was going to need help in the next few days. He could barely walk, wouldn’t be able to shower on his own with the stitches in his leg and shoulder, and he couldn’t reach all the bandages that would need changed.

** **

Gail was an option. He hadn’t called the good looking nurse in a while, but if she was between boyfriends then she’d probably be game.

** **

It wasn’t ideal, but he didn’t want to think about  _ why _ he was less than enthusiastic about a beautiful woman tending to his wounds. He should be looking forward to the next few days - the pain of recovery aside. Instead, he was gritting his teeth and hoping that Gail would think he was too injured for anything more sexual than a handshake.

** **

He squinted at the sun when they stepped outside the airport, then shrugged off Parker - acting as a crutch on his right side - to pull his phone out.

** **

“Spect Nate and Soph ain’t back yet, so it’ll be a while yet before there’s another job. Think it’s safe to say you’ve earned a break though.”

** **

Hardison laughed. “Man, we’ve  _ all _ earned a break after that shit.”

** **

“Well try not to do nothin too stupid to celebrate, huh? I ain’t quite ready to bust in and save your asses if you stumble into trouble.” He expected Hardison to grumble, to crack a joke about how he could get them out of any messes with his computer skills. Instead, the smile on Hardison’s face went still, his mouth holding the shape even while his eyes turn confused, uncertain.

** **

“I- what?”

** **

The confusion slipped into something deeper, almost  _ hurt, _ and Eliot felt himself switching. That base side of him, the beast with only one goal, saw pain that it needed to ease.

** **

“That’s not true, Alec. Just a joke. You  _ know _ I’ll be there if you need me. I’ll find a way.” Fuck the holes that bullets had ripped through his body. Fuck his fractured hand and his bruised ribs. As long as there was still breath in his body, he’d be standing between them and danger. They knew that. They knew that, right?

** **

Except then Hardison looked even more confused. In a softer way, with warmth around his eyes that soothed the beast’s need to comfort him.

** **

‘Yeah, of course. But what-”

** **

“Oo-oh!” Parker was looking at them appraisingly, then grinned at whatever realization she’d made. “I get it!” She snatched Eliot’s phone out of his hand and pocketed it before his injury-dulled reflexes had a chance to react.

** **

“You do? Cuz mama, I am l-o-s-t  _ lost.” _

** **

“You’re both being stupid,” Parker chirped happily. Hardison sputtered. Eliot growled. But at least this was more familiar footing. The beast retreated, and Eliot was left glaring at his partners.

** **

“I ain’t-”

** **

“Bup bup bup bup!” Parker pushed a finger against his lips to shoosh him. Eliot fought the urge to bite her. “Of course he’s coming back with us, silly,” she said to Hardison. “He’s just being Eliot!”

** **

“Parker!” Eliot tried to bark the word, but it came out muffled, because her damn finger was still on his lips.

** **

When she turned back to him, her face shifted to something soft, even while she was still smiling. Eliot stilled, like a well trained dog that’s just been told to sit. “We don’t want you to go off on your own. Not like this.” She gestured to his bloody bandages.

** **

“I was gonna call someone. To-”

** **

“We’d rather take care of you ourselves, if you don’t mind.”

** **

Eliot floundered for a moment, unsure what to say. Until Hardison rested a hand on his uninjured shoulder and said, “please.” And then he found himself nodding.

** **

“Okay.”

** **

***

** **

Being cared for by a thief and a hacker was  _ not _ like being cared for by a sexy nurse. For one thing, Hardison was squeamish about blood, and there was plenty of the stuff to deal with. For another, Gail’s appraisal of his body when she helped him undress had always been clinical and mildly appreciative.

** **

She’d never examined each scar that she hadn’t seen before with a mixture of fascination and sympathy. She had never kissed them, not even when they’d moved on from tending wounds to having some fun. She’d never had two sets of hands that seemed to be everywhere at once, touching him almost reverently, uncertain but gentle, with a kind of tenderness that made him ache.

** **

There was a moment, between one breath and the next, that he thought maybe they were trying to tell him something. That Hardison was going to meet his eyes and ask him a question that was going to be either the best or worst thing that had ever happened to him.

** **

But it was just a fantasy, a stupid, foolish fantasy. Because despite the loaded glances, despite the way Parker’s lips had pressed to his skin, they didn’t speak. They just helped him. His ruined clothes were discarded, his bandages changed, and then he was being led to a bed in the apartment that couldn’t be the one Parker and Hardison shared because it was too small.

** **

Eliot didn’t want to think about them not wanting him in their bed. Of course they didn’t want him there. Instead, he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. The more rest he could get, the quicker he could recuperate. The quicker he healed, the quicker he’d be in condition to protect them - and out of their home.

** **

***

** **

Parker was across the room. Eliot didn’t have to open his eyes to know it. He knew her scent, her sounds. She never used perfumed soaps - wouldn’t do to be sniffed out on a job - but he could pick out the scent of her skin. Nylon and sunshine and something fruity (likely the cereal she’d had for breakfast). And he knew the sound of her practicing lockpicks.

** **

_ Click click snick _

** **

He opened his eyes and took stock of his body. He was unbearably stiff. Even the slightest shift brought the pain of torn flesh and cracked bone screaming through him. His hands ached, his head was throbbing, his throat was so dry it burned.

** **

Nothing unexpected.

** **

In this condition, he couldn’t be much use to Hardison and Parker except as a meat shield, or a body for their attackers to trip over while they ran away, but it was something.

** **

He sat up, forcing his body to comply. A wave of pain sliced through him, so deeply that he was nauseated and light headed. He closed his eyes and embraced it. Subjugated it. Dismissed it. Opened his eyes again.

** **

Parker was sitting right in front of him, now, eyes narrowed in either concern or irritation. Could be both.

** **

“Hardison should be back any minute, but I don’t think you should be sitting up yet. He’s not here to ask, so you’ve got to tell me, but you’ve got to be honest with me because I’ll know if you’re lying.”

** **

“I’m fine, Parker.”

** **

She huffed. “See? A lie, right there. You’re not fine. You have bullet holes in you.” She raised her hand like she was going to poke one, but thankfully resisted the urge.

** **

“Fine enough,” he clarified. “What’re you doin in here, anyways?”

** **

“Watching you.”

** **

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cuz that’s not creepy at all.”

** **

“Watching  _ over _ you. I’m supposed to be making sure you don’t do things you shouldn’t, which is why I need to know if you should be sitting up. I still think maybe you shouldn’t be. Your face got all pale there for a minute.”

** **

“Looks fine now, don’t it? Then it’s fine.”

** **

She frowned. “You look… tight. Here-” She gently touched the lines of strain around his eyes.

** **

“I’m-” The concern on her face halted the flippant reply, and he sighed, softening his tone. “I’ll  _ be _ fine. Okay?”

** **

After studying him for another minute, she nodded, accepting that. “Okay.” She smiled, and suddenly Eliot was hyper-aware of the fact that he was naked under the thin sheet. That Parker was sitting on the bed, her hand inches away from his hip. That they were alone in the room. And that this wasn’t the version of Parker that he could force himself to be in one hundred percent control around, the one that he only wanted to protect. This was beautiful, strong, funny Parker, who belonged to Hardison and shouldn’t be sitting so close to a naked man, even one who was probably too injured to act on the dirty thoughts that lurked in his mind.

** **

Clothes. Clothes were a good idea.

** **

“Where are my-” He was cut off by a soft sound beyond the door, and a bolt of shame went through him, as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. He wanted to shift away on the bed, or pull the sheet up over his chest like some gasping damsel, but then there was another soft sound and Hardison’s head appeared in the doorway.

** **

He saw Eliot sitting up and smiled.  _ Smiled. _ Eliot closed his eyes.

** **

“Good, you’re up! I come bearing gifts.” There was a rustle of paper and plastic as he sat down his bags.

** **

“Is it good? I wasn’t sure if he should be sitting up, and  _ he _ wouldn’t tell me, but he says he’s going to be okay, and I believe that much.”

** **

“He knows his limits better than we do, babe. Besides, he’d have to sit up when we changed his bandages and washed him anyways.”

** **

“True.”

** **

Eliot felt fingers resting gently on his knee and he didn’t have to look to know they were Hardison’s. He opened his eyes anyway.

** **

“Alright, I got the goods. A few changes of clothes from your place - nice try on the security system, by the way, but it needs some work - enough medical supplies to stock a small hospital, and the very best painkillers a fake prescription can get.” He lifted half a dozen pill bottles from a paper bag and rattled them with a grin.

** **

“No drugs. I’ll take the water, though.”

** **

Hardison handed him the cold bottle without putting down the pills. “They’re not  _ drug _ drugs,” he defended. “They’re all on the up and up. Oxycodone, Vicodin, Hydrocodone, all hospital quality.”

** **

“I didn’t think you were givin me tainted street crap.” Eliot took a drink of the water, letting it wash away the burn in his throat. Hardison looked relieved. “But no drugs.”

** **

“If this is some weird macho crap, or you’re just being stubborn-”

** **

“Shut up, Hardison.” Eliot didn’t want to tell him why he never took mind-altering drugs. Didn’t want to admit, in the revealing daylight streaming through the window, that he never fully trusted himself. That if he lost control for even one moment, he could do irreparable damage. And he didn’t want to voice out loud his fear that something might happen when his mind and body were dulled, that he wouldn’t be able to move fast enough, wouldn’t be able to save them.

** **

Parker put her hand on Hardison’s arm, halting whatever he’d been about to say. “Don’t.” 

** **

Hardison looked back at her, and what he saw on her face made him put the pills down. He glanced between them, knowing that there was some understanding there that he couldn’t grasp, and finally nodded. “Alright. No drugs then.”

** **

And that was that.

** **

There was more arguing through the day, almost as much for entertainment as for anything else. Eliot grumbling when Hardison brought in crap food for him to eat, growling at Parker when she was too finickey changing his bandages. A flat out bickering match about how they were going to wash him - which ended with Eliot giving himself a bed bath everywhere he could reach, and only relinquishing the wash rag for the spots that were impossible for him to get with his injuries. He wasn’t happy about Hardison soaping his bad shoulder, or Parker getting his back, but at least he’d been able to wash his own ass.

** **

Their care was as comfortable in its familiarity as it was  _ un _ comfortable because it was  _ them. _ The people he should be giving to, not taking from. It was… itchy. Having them wait on him. Planning their day around him. Being deferential to him.

** **

Maybe it was so disconcerting because he’d never had anyone take care of him without being paid to. Maybe he didn’t feel like he deserved to be taken care of. Maybe he just wasn’t programmed that way. But it itched, and so he snapped and snarled at them.

** **

And it didn’t seem to affect them at all.

** **

_ My own fault, _ he muttered to himself. He’d grown soft for them, and they knew it. They had an unshakable certainty that no matter what, he was theirs. And as inconvenient as it was when they were using it against him to  _ take care of him, _ he figured he couldn’t rightly complain about that fact.

** **

***

** **

A week later, Eliot was back on his feet again. He wasn’t back at one hundred percent, but he could limp along just fine on his own. He should’ve been gathering his things and heading for home.

** **

Instead, he lingered.

** **

Part of it was the tension in the air, as though something was coming, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. If there really was something just around the corner and he wasn’t just getting paranoid, he wanted to be as close to Parker and Hardison as he could be so that he would be between them and trouble.

** **

Another reason he hadn’t left yet was because he simply couldn’t bring himself to. It was selfish, and stupid, and dangerous. He wanted to believe that his love for them was pure enough that he wouldn’t do anything he shouldn’t, but- But Parker sat pressed up against him when they were watching a movie, and Hardison kept popping his head on Eliot’s shoulder while he cooked, claiming he wanted to help because Eliot was injured and shouldn’t be cooking for them. And it was everything he could do to keep from pulling Parker into his arms. To keep from turning his head and kissing Hardison. To stop himself from falling to his knees and begging them to let him  _ have _ them, let him please them, let him-

** **

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, he knew. It was bad enough that he’d given up trying to stop the fantasies that came to him in the dark. He couldn’t think about what liberties he might be allowed if he had everything he wanted. It was too dangerous. Especially with the way Hardison watched him as he turned to go to bed, and the way Parker had started kissing his cheek to say good night, and how badly his hands shook with  _ want  _ as they turned away.

** **

He wondered, as he laid in bed one night, fighting the urge to fuck his fist while thinking about pleasing them, if this was some kind of self torture. If he was staying  _ because _ it was so painful to be this close and not touch. Was he punishing himself for letting his feelings get so far? For daring to want them, even in the privacy of his own mind?

** **

It was strange; Eliot never had a problem compartmentalizing. He’d learned long ago to lock away the darkness, the things he couldn’t live with. They didn’t go in boxes, out of sight and forgotten, no, but he could put them away. His mind was filled with walls of glass. The faces of the people he’d killed were pressed against one, always watching him. The instinctual beast that took over whenever the people he loved needed him sat behind another, ready to break through if the occasion arose. There was a version of himself behind a wall too. The man he’d been before he started taking lives. One who still had morals, who wanted to be  _ good. _ One who hated the man he’d become with every fiber of his being. 

** **

Everything, behind glass walls, separated cleanly but never out of sight.

** **

It had never been a problem before, to live in the moment. He did his job, he growled at Parker, he harassed Hardison, he rolled his eyes at Sophie’s antics. He could function perfectly fine without crippling waves of self-hatred sneaking up on him. Without ever showing his own needs. He could close his eyes at night and sit down in his mind, watching all the things behind the glass, watching them watch him.

** **

But lately, things had been slipping through. Had his self-hatred gotten so intense that he couldn’t keep it walled off? That he was acting on it even around Hardison and Parker?

** **

If that was the case, he needed to run. He needed to stay away from them until he could reseal all his barriers. Because no way in  _ hell _ was he going to take the chance that any of that might come out on them.

** **

Thinking about that actually had him packing his bag that night. He’d gotten most of the clothes that Hardison had brought over for him stuffed inside when Parker skipped into the room and dragged him away to watch her rigging up a new harness. When he’d gotten back, the clothes had been unpacked and the bag was nowhere in sight.

** **

And weak willed coward that he was, he didn’t try to find it again.

** **

*** 

** **

Distant, rasping breath woke Eliot one night. He went from a dead sleep to wide awake and armed in half a heartbeat. The rapid, wheezing breaths were interrupted by a low whine.

** **

_ Hardison. _

** **

The beast was already moving Eliot down the hall with swift, silent steps before Eliot’s conscious mind was even aware. The bedroom door was open. He slipped inside, scanning for any sign of danger in the shadows. There was none.

** **

Just Parker, sitting up and looking afraid, reaching out but not touching Hardison, who was thrashing on the bed. She saw Eliot and didn’t even flinch at his sudden appearance. If anything, she looked  _ relieved. _ He refused to think about what that made him feel.

** **

“I tried to shake him awake and he freaked out,” she whispered, voice panicked. “I don’t know what to do!”

** **

They all had horrors in their pasts. Eliot himself was intimately familiar with the way memories could creep up in the night. With how the mind could twist fears and doubts into chaotic terrors that could only be escaped by waking.

** **

This could be anything, Eliot knew, but he had a suspicion based on the way Hardison’s breath was choked off and his movements were stilted.

** **

“Open the windows,” he instructed Parker. “Then turn on the lamp.” 

** **

She was up in a flash, throwing the windows wide and bathing the room in the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Eliot leaned over Hardison, bracing his arms on either side of his head, close, but not touching.

** **

“Alec.” He kept his voice level, even. Hardison twitched, gasping as the night air whispered across his face. Eliot tried again, more authoritatively.  _ “Alec.” _

** **

Hardison’s eyes snapped open and he took a strangled breath. His hand shot out, and Parker was right there to take it and squeeze it tight.

** **

“Take a deep breath,” Eliot instructed. Hardison’s wild eyes focused on Eliot’s face. He calmed fractionally. Eliot mimed an exaggerated breath. Long inhale. Hold. Slow exhale. Hardison followed the movement. Eliot repeated it again. And again.

** **

Finally, the panic left Hardison's face and he could breathe on his own. Eliot sat back. He might’ve slipped off the bed and out of the room, but Hardison grabbed his hand and gripped it tight.

** **

“I- I couldn’t breathe,” he whispered hoarsely, the terror of his dream still tinging the words. “There was no air, just dirt in my mouth and my lungs and I couldn’t-” He closed his eyes and took another shuddering breath, as if to prove to himself that he could.

** **

“Just a dream,” Eliot murmured, squeezing his hand tight.

** **

Hardison looked down at their joined hands, then up to Eliot’s face. “You always come for me.”

** **

Eliot felt his throat close. His chest felt like it had steel bands around it. He swallowed, and nodded. “Always.”

** **

There was a moment when it seemed like there was nothing dividing them. Not Eliot’s past, not their existing relationship, not Hardison’s relationship with Parker, not Eliot’s own self loathing - just the two of them, breathing the same air, nakedly adoring each other.

** **

Hardison surged forward and kissed Eliot. He pulled his hand out of Eliot’s suddenly lax grip and thrust it into Eiot’s hair. Not tangling, just cradling the back of Eliot’s skull as Hardison’s lips moved against him. It was hard and urgent, as though they were crashing together after hurtling toward each other for ages. Maybe they had been.

** **

Eliot’s mind buzzed with so many thoughts that it felt like he would short-circuit. There was the loud, overwhelming shriek of  _ kissing Hardison Kissing Hardison KISSING HARDISON. _ The hum of pleasure stealing along his nerves at the feel of Hardison’s full, soft lips pressing against his own. The swoop in his stomach that matched a wave of disgust in his brain - the younger version of himself beating on that wall of glass, shouting  _ worthless fucking bastard! _ Because he shouldn’t be kissing Hardison. Shouldn’t be allowing Hardison’s lips to part ever so slightly, shouldn’t be inhaling Hardison’s breath like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever taken into his lungs. Hardison deserved more than Eliot, better than Eliot, Hardison deserved-

** **

Parker shifted fractionally beside them, and the wall of glass that allowed Eliot to separate his self-hatred  _ shattered. _ He jerked back so quickly that he almost stumbled off the bed. His eyes swung to Parker, her face not twisted in anger or disgust, no, but soft somehow, almost sad, and  _ fuck _ that was worse. She reached out to him and Eliot flinched away. He didn’t think she would hit him, but he deserved it. He deserved so much worse. 

** **

Her hand fell away.

** **

Eliot wanted to fall to his knees and beg their forgiveness. For overstepping, for crossing a line he’d sworn he’d never cross, for taking advantage of their trust in him, for letting himself go down a path all those years ago that there was no redemption from. For being so terrible, so worthless, so-

** **

He stood and left the room, his long, hurried strides putting ever increasing space between them. He couldn’t be around them for this. It wasn’t their mess. It was his. They couldn’t see him like this, drowning in his own despise. Because they were  _ them, _ and they’d want to  _ help, _ and not only did Eliot not deserve it, he didn’t want it. He was their protector, not a burden to them. He  _ wouldn’t _ be a burden to them.

** **

No. He needed to retreat, to rebuild his walls.  _ Get your shit together, Eliot. _ He’d seal it all away again until he could face them with all his demons where they belonged. Where they couldn’t spill over onto Parker and Hardison in any way.

** **

Maybe in the morning, if they demanded explanation, he’d apologize. He’d get his things and get out. Maybe Hardison would blame himself and would let Eliot brush it off, because of course it wasn’t Hardison’s fault. Just a reaction in the heat of the moment. Eliot should have known better than to be right there, to immediately pull away.

** **

He didn’t let himself imagine how much worse the morning could go. That maybe, they would have seen the longing on his face, that he’d showed his hand and fucked everything up beyond repair. He couldn’t face that possibility, not when he was already in a thousand jagged little shards.

** **

He retreated to his room, locked the door - not that there was any lock that could keep Parker out if she was determined - and curled up on his bed.

** **

***

** **

Eliot took a short jog at sunrise. He told himself it was to stretch out his stiff muscles and test how well he’d healed, and not to delay the inevitable.

** **

The walls that compartmentalized his mind were held together with duct tape and willpower, rather than the seamless glass panels that they had been, but he’d reconstructed them well enough. They’d hold, at least until time and distance erased the cracks. 

** **

He was Eliot Spencer, Murderer. Bastard. Animal. But he was also Eliot Spencer, Protector. Defender. A man who loved fiercely and unconditionally, and would do anything to shelter the people he felt that love for.

** **

And because of that, he would go back to Hardison and Parker’s place, and he would face whatever awaited them. He would keep the ugly parts of himself hidden inside. He would be himself, the him that they knew. The one that was obviously damaged, but didn’t need any help, that could give and give, and was strong enough to keep giving even when it seemed like there was nothing left.

** **

He did his best, when he walked back into their apartment, not to look like a man walking to the gallows. They’d both been waiting in the living room, huddled together. At the sound of the door closing behind him, they stood up and whirled around, eyes wide. Hardison took a step toward him, then stopped.

** **

Eliot kept his face blank, but maybe that wasn’t the right way to go, because Parker grabbed Hardison’s hand and squeezed, a small sound of distress in her throat. Maybe he’d been too bare with them lately. Maybe they could see what he was really doing with his blank face and tense shoulders -  _ bracing for impact. _

** **

“Hey,” Hardison said, voice high and tight. Eliot stayed still, giving him an open target if Hardison wanted it. But no, they’d stopped  _ because _ he was making himself a target. Instead, he forced a smile to his face. Well, smile was probably too generous a word for the gesture. His lips twisted, and he wasn’t scowling, which was pretty good, all things considered.

** **

He raised his hand, a vague cross between wave and salute, then decided tactical retreat was the best option until they’d decided what they wanted to do. He went to the kitchen and started pulling together ingredients for pancakes.

** **

He heard them follow him, but didn’t look back.

** **

“The chocolate ones taste the happiest,” Parker said when she saw him reach for the blueberries.

** **

A part of him relaxed automatically, back on familiar ground. “How about white chocolate cranberry?” he offered as a healthier alternative - though really, even double chocolate pancakes were healthier than the sugar cereal she used to gorge on.

** **

When he braved a glance back at her face ( _ coward, _ he taunted himself from behind the glass) her nose was scrunched up. He could practically  _ hear _ what she was thinking.

** **

“I’ll make white chocolate sauce to put on top if you promise not to pick out the cranberries.”

** **

She grinned. “Deal.”

** **

And just like that, it seemed like maybe they were going to be able to skip over all the uncomfortable shit entirely. Maybe they didn’t have anything to say about it, and it could all be swept under the rug, with all the other things they’d been politely ignoring over the years-

** **

“Hey.”

** **

Hardison’s hand on Eliot’s shoulder shattered the hope. Eliot grunted back in acknowledgement, fighting desperately to seem unaffected.

** **

“Listen, I just wanted to say thanks, and - and I’m sorry.”

** **

_ Sorry? _ For a minute, that didn’t register. But then, it made sense, didn’t it? Hardison was innocent in so many ways still. Maybe he hadn’t realized yet the depraved fantasies Eliot had had about his partners. Maybe he thought that the kiss was his own fault, and that Eliot hadn’t wanted it - instead of it being the thing that Eliot wanted so desperately it kept him up at night.

** **

“Nothin to thank me or apologize for.”

** **

Hardison’s hand slipped from Eliot’s shoulder, settling this time on his lower back. Hardison’s hand was warm, the pressure light. “You sure?”

** **

There was so much uncertainty in the words. More than Eliot could bear. It was one thing to hide the depth of his feelings to protect them. It was another to let them hurt because he was too much a coward to expose himself to censure. He stopped whisking and turned. Hardison had his lower lip caught between his teeth. Eliot allowed himself to reach up, slowly, cautiously, and press his thumb in the dip above Hardison’s chin. With a tiny downward tug, Hardison’s lip popped free.

** **

“Yeah,” he said, aware that he was giving too much away in how husky his voice had gone and how his eyes strayed to Hardison’s lips. “I’m sure.”

** **

Hardison opened his mouth, like he was going to say more, and Eliot turned away. Pancakes. Pancakes were what he needed to get things back to normal. Hardison would drink Orange Soda with them, and Eliot would complain about him ruining his palate, and then he’d have to steal the sauce away from Parker before she poured  _ all _ of it on her pancakes, and everything would go back to normal.

** **

After one tense moment, Hardison cleared his throat and backed away. “Alright.”

** **

And that was that.

** **

***

** **

Except it wasn’t.

** **

There was something that happened to them, after dark. It was like they were emotional werewolves. It lived under their skin, invisible to the naked eye, until the stars came out and then something inside them wrenched itself free to wreak havoc through their hearts.

** **

It said something about the things his heart knew even when his mind didn’t, that he wasn’t really surprised to hear Parker step into his doorway.

** **

He didn’t have to turn over to know it was her.

** **

“You love us.” A statement, soft, timid, but certain.

** **

Eliot didn’t bother to deny it. He kept his back to her, curled in on himself, and let out a slow breath. “Yeah.” No defense, no caveats. Just agreement. He owed her honesty at least, if she was going to ask him point blank.

** **

“Okay.” And then there were only the sounds of her footfalls as she walked away. Well, that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, but all things considered, he wasn’t going to complain. It could’ve gone-

** **

There were more steps, coming closer this time. Two sets. Eliot tensed. He stayed tense as they walked to the bed, as they paused, and then when he felt a long, lean body slip under the covers behind him and a smaller, warmer one slide in at his front. They curled around him, fitting so perfectly.

** **

His mind was blessedly blank. It was just the press of their bodies against his, their steady breaths in his ears, Parker’s hair tickling his nose and Hardison’s cold feet making goosebumps rise on Eliot’s legs.

** **

“We love you too, y’know,” Hardison whispered.

** **

The tranquility was broken, and Eliot’s mind started to spin again.

** **

The thing was, he’d considered the possibility before. Of course he had. How could he not? Everyone on the Leverage team cared for each other, in one way or another. They were family. They trusted each other, risked their lives for each other. And he wasn’t so dense or blinded by his self-loathing that he couldn’t see the way Hardison and Parker were around him.

** **

Hell, even the sexual tension had been intense at times, and that was their  _ least _ intimate connection.

** **

So he knew they cared about him. They would even call it love. But Eliot could tell by the tone of Hardison’s voice, the way he was pressed against Eliot’s body, that he wasn’t meaning familial love.

** **

The words repeated in Eliot’s head, in Hardison’s low, whispered voice, and Eliot felt them like bullets ripping through his heart.

** **

There had been fantasies, in the deepest darkest nights, where Eliot had let himself believe that Parker and Hardison could love him the way he loved them. Where they wanted him, his scars and his darkness and all. Where they wanted to make a three way relationship work - because if anyone could make it work, wasn’t it them? - and where they could fall into bed together like it was something meant to be.

** **

He’d want to - to  _ court _ them. To do it right, to do so many of the things he’d already been doing for them but out in the open this time, to let them see each home cooked meal as a declaration of love, each gift as a reminder of how precious they were to him, each touch as his hands saying the words he couldn’t always articulate.

** **

What he  _ wanted, _ in those fantasies, was for the man he’d been so many years ago to be with them. The one who lived behind the wall of glass, who hated what he’d become with every fiber of his being, who knew that he wasn’t good enough for them, not by half.

** **

And that was where the fantasy always ended. Because even if, by some miracle, they could love him, that one simple fact remained. He couldn’t change who and what he was. And he loved them enough not to subject them to himself.

** **

Slowly, he disentangled himself from them and moved back, leaning against the footboard of the bed. Hardison and Parker scooched until they were sitting up against the headboard. They looked across the expanse of mattress at each other.

** **

“You shouldn’t,” he finally said.

** **

Parker flinched, just a fraction, but Eliot noticed it and hated himself for it.

** **

“Shouldn’t love you?” Hardison scoffed. “Pretty hard not to.”

** **

Eliot didn’t agree with that, but didn’t address it. Instead, he shook his head. “Shouldn’t be sayin it to me, not here, in the dark, in bed.”

** **

“Look, if it’s about being with a man like that, being with me-”

** **

Eliot snorted, and his derision was clear enough that Hardison stopped.

** **

“Tell us why, then,” Parker prompted.

** **

He had to stop himself from gaping at her. He could spend hours,  _ days, _ telling them the reasons it was a bad idea to come to his bed. When his will was so weak, and his core was rotten through, and the only thing stronger than his desire  _ for _ them was his desire to keep them safe, but if they were asking for him, then…

** **

“Do you even know what you want from me?”

** **

“Of course we do.” This time it was Hardison’s turn to sound derisive. “You think we’d have come to you with this if we weren’t one hundred percent certain? There’s always been more between the three of us. Hell, you’ve been dating us in all but name for years. We just think it’s time to… make it official.” He smiled a little, and Parker mirrored the expression. 

** **

“And add in some liberties we’ve all wanted to take.”

** **

God, it was hard to resist them. To remember all the reasons why he couldn’t do this. To not let himself be caught up in the dream of what he might have if he could only be someone worthy of them.

** **

“I’m not goin anywhere. You’ve gotta know that by now. I’m here, for as long as you’ll have me, and probably longer than that, if I’m bein honest, because there won’t be a day that I stop lookin out for you even if it’s from afar.” He ran his hand through his hair instead of ducking his head to hide behind it, meeting their gazes head on. “And if - if you want somethin physical from time to time, I’ll give it. Whatever you ask me for, it’s yours. Is that enough?”

** **

Already, he could feel the beast starting to press forward. He’d shared sexual situations with them before. If they wanted more than that, of course he would give it. He would fulfil any need they had, grant every desire. He would give and give and give, carve out another piece of himself for them until there was nothing inside him but the desperate wish for more because at his very core, he was a selfish, twisted man.

** **

“No.”

** **

His eyes flicked to Parker, who was looking at him with something like horror.

** **

It was strange, he’d expected to see Small Parker. That was who came to him at night, with needs he was helpless to deny. But she didn’t look small, now. She didn’t look quite like Thief Parker, who was all brazen wildness, either. This was something he’d seen flashes of before, but never to this extent. She was  _ vulnerable. _ Like everything she usually kept so close to her core was laid bare.

** **

And Eliot found that he responded to this version of her in a very similar way. The beast was just beneath his skin, ready to serve his one purpose. “Tell me what you need,” he said. An offer, an invitation, a knife held hilt-first toward her.  _ Cut off what you want. _

** **

“You.”

** **

They both said it at the same time, like something out of a badly scripted movie. He would have laughed, if he didn’t feel so much like falling apart.

** **

“You have me,” he said, and the words were so true that they hurt. They did have him, Parker and Hardison. They’d had him for years. He was so deeply in their pockets that he’d never get out. If they wanted, they could skip him around like a puppet on strings. “Whatever you need-”

** **

“No, you aren’t understanding us, Eliot.” Hardison leaned forward, grabbing Eliot’s hand. “We need  _ you. _ Not whatever you can give us. Not what you can do for us.  _ You.” _

** **

“If you didn’t love us,” Parker added, “didn’t want us too, we wouldn’t ask. Because we know that you’ll give us anything you think we need, no matter the cost to you. But you  _ do _ love us. Right, Eliot?”

** **

She scooted closer infinitesimally, so stealthily that he couldn’t even track the motion, but then in another moment she was practically in his lap, tucking his hair behind his ear, her fingers lingering lightly on the shell of it. “Right, Eliot?”

** **

He gave one single, damning nod.

** **

“If you’ll let us have you, then we’ll take it.” Hardison had moved closer as well, close enough that Eliot could have kissed him again. “But it won’t just be about  _ you _ giving. About  _ our _ needs. Because if you’re ours, then we’re yours.”

** **

Beautiful words - more than a man like Eliot ever deserved to hear. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the haze of  _ want, _ of the siren call of them and what they were offering him.

** **

“You don’t gotta-”

** **

Parker’s fingers slid into his hair and gripped, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to stop his words. She turned his face toward her and in that moment she still looked vulnerable, yes, but something else too. She looked fierce. Her eyes were blazing into his.

** **

“You  _ matter, _ Eliot Spencer. Do you hear me? You matter, all of you. Your wants, your needs, your feelings.”

** **

Everything in Eliot’s mind was still. Quiet. The beast was frozen in place - even his self-loathing had stopped screaming behind the glass and was just standing there, waiting.

** **

What they were saying to him… Of course it was more than he deserved. But if he could be allowed to have what he wanted  _ while _ meeting their needs… Wasn’t that enough?

** **

Hardison’s hand squeezed his gently, drawing Eliot’s eyes back. “This time, let us ask  _ you. _ What do  _ you _ need, Eliot?”

** **

The thing about all his years as a hitter was, Eliot knew when he’d been beat. It was always accompanied by a sick feeling of dread, or a numb acceptance. Eliot accepted defeat this time with fear and anticipation and hope singing in his blood. He knew he was going to regret this in the morning. In the cold light of day, when he could recall all the reasons he shouldn’t be with them like this, after they’d had him and realized that maybe they didn’t want him after all. But that was a future that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about just yet.

** **

Not when he was overwhelmed with the feel of the people he loved pressing up against him, their warmth blanketing him, their acceptance of him and their selfless words drugging his mind and stifling his doubts.

** **

“I need-” He faltered, unable to articulate it. He needed them the way they were saying they needed him. He needed them safe and whole and happy. He needed them to need him, and more than that -  _ fuck _ \- he needed them to  _ love _ him. “Be mine,” he finally grated out, not caring how raw the words sounded. “Let me take care of you. Inside and out.”

** **

“Yours,” Parker said softly. An affirmation. A promise. They shuffled closer to him, closing the already scant distance. Parker pressed her face in the crook of his shoulder, hand still stroking softly through his hair. Hardison wrapped his arm around Eliot’s back, and Eliot automatically shifted so that his arm was across Hardison’s shoulders.

** **

“This,” Eliot breathed, pressing his lips momentarily to Parker’s hair, “this is it. It’s all I need. I swear.”

** **

Hardison squeezed him a little, then drew back far enough that Eliot could see the light in his eyes. Mischievous? Happy? Lustful?

** **

“We need you, and you need us. Everyone has what they  _ need. _ How about now we focus on what we  _ want.” _

** **

Parker nodded eagerly, still tucked against Eliot’s neck.

** **

“Tell us what you  _ want, _ Eliot,” Hardison finished.

** **

A dozen fantasies trickled through Eliot’s mind. Things he dreamed of, but never thought would come true. Things he wanted to watch them do, things he wanted to do to them, things he wanted them to do to him.

** **

But almost every desire he’d ever had came down to one thing. “I want to make you feel good.”

** **

“You do, El,” Hardison assured.

** **

“No.” Eliot pushed Hardison back, gently but firmly, and then put Parker beside him. He snatched the hair tie that had been on Parker’s wrist and carelessly pulled his hair back with it while watching them with dark eyes. “I want to make you  _ feel good.” _

** **

“Oh.” Hardison’s voice had gone comically high.

** **

“Me first!” Parker whipped off her shirt, and neither man was in the least surprised. Eliot crawled forward, caging her body in, pressing kisses along her collar bone, her sternum, down her belly. He caught the waistband of her shorts with his teeth and tugged until they came down. 

** **

“You’re gonna have to learn-” Eliot tossed the shorts negligently behind him and pressed a kiss to her bare inner thigh, “-to share.” He switched to Hardison and repeated the move, pulling Hardison’s shorts off with his mouth while Hardison panted with excitement.

** **

Parker squirmed beside him. 

** **

“I only got one mouth… but I got two hands.” He put his hands on both their thighs and ran them upward. “Which do you want first?” he asked Parker.

** **

“Hands! No- mouth! No both!”

** **

Eliot glanced up at Hardison. “You alright with that?” He ran his left hand even higher on Hardison’s thigh, edging toward his cock, which was already hard and twitching against his abs.

** **

“Hell yes.”

** **

It was agreement enough from both of them. He wrapped his fingers around Hardison’s cock and gave a slow stroke while spreading Parker’s thighs with his other hand. Hardison’s keen of pleasure was muffled as soon as Eliot lowered his lips to Parker, because her legs tightened around his head. He licked at her, flicking and circling with the tip of his tongue. She squeezed around him so tightly that he had to force her thighs loose and use his shoulders to keep them spread.

** **

Then, he could hear Hardison again. Each shuddering breath, each broken curse, each low moan. Parker, unsurprisingly, stayed silent except barely audible gasps. Instead, he read her pleasure in the twitches of her muscles and how wet she grew under his tongue.

** **

By the time he slipped two fingers inside her and had her clamping around him, he realized that his own cock was hard and throbbing. It had probably been hard since Parker had touched his ear. It just… didn’t matter. He was aroused, yes, but his own reactions were unimportant, an afterthought. Instead, he was consumed with the pleasure he was giving  _ them. _

** **

Leaving his fingers inside Parker with his thumb circling her clit, Eliot raised his head and shifted position. Parker might’ve protested, but he pressed down with his thumb while crooking his fingers and she bowed off the bed with a silent scream. Eliot flicked a glance up at Hardison, and, finding him more than enthusiastic, lowered his mouth.

** **

Eliot didn’t consider himself an expert at blow jobs, though he’d given more than a few in his time, but he did consider himself an expert in  _ Hardison. _ Each sound that fell from his lips, each jerk of his muscles, each pulse of his cock, was a roadmap for Eliot to follow.

** **

When Hardison started bucking his hips up helplessly, Eliot switched to using his hand again, and returned his mouth to Parker. If the way she was clenching around his fingers was any indication, she was working toward her third orgasm. If he was quick enough, they would finish simultaneously. He worked his left hand hard and fast over Hardison, his tongue and fingers deftly coaxing Parker along, and then, as though they’d rehearsed it, the two of them fell apart together.

** **

Hardison came hotly over his stomach and chest, and Parker finally broke her silence with a long, low cry.

** **

He gentled his touch on both of them, drawing out the pleasure but not overstimulating them. When they finally collapsed, catching their breath, Eliot withdrew his hands completely. He splayed one on Hardison’s stomach, uncaring of the mess, and the other on Parker’s. His head was pillowed on Parker’s slim thigh.

** **

He could have spent the rest of his days like that, between them, touching them possessively while they recovered from pleasure he’d given them. He’d never felt more content. More at peace.

** **

“Holy hell,” Hardison laughed. “That was…” He trailed off, grinning and shaking his head. “How’d you  _ do _ that?”

** **

Eliot shrugged a little. “I’m good with my hands.”

** **

“And mouth,” Parker added.

** **

“Definitely good with your mouth, too,” Hardison agreed. “And multitasking. And that growling of yours is apparently for more than scaring people off, because Jesus H, the way that felt against me-”

** **

“I liked that part too,” Parker agreed.

** **

It was probably ridiculous to feel so much warmth at their praise, but at the moment, Eliot didn’t care. He just let himself bask in it.

** **

“So, uh-” Hardison glanced down at Eliot almost shyly, then looked away, “where do you stand on cuddling?” He had his arm stretched out, Parker’s head in his hand. Eliot could see where he could fit between them.

** **

“If you want.” Eliot started to move up the bed, but Parker’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

** **

“Do  _ you _ want to?”

** **

He paused. What he wanted was to give them whatever  _ they _ wanted. But, just for himself? He wasn’t even sure he knew what  _ he _ wanted, seperate from indulging their desires. He’d never been a big cuddler, especially not after his days of getting his hands dirty. Being pinned down, entangled, was dangerous. He almost said no. But the space between them looked so inviting, the hope so clear on their faces… He could try it, at least. See how it went. If it was too uncomfortable, he’d just wait until they fell asleep and then put Hardison in the middle so that Eliot was between them and the door.

** **

“Yeah, I want to.”

** **

Parker smiled, and Hardison hummed happily, and Eliot moved up between them. He laid on his back, encircled by them. They both curled around him, Parker’s head on his chest and Hardison’s on his shoulder. Their legs tangled together. It was everything Eliot could ever ask for. He almost thought he could fall asleep like that, until Parker tapped him on the stomach.

** **

“Eliot?”

** **

“Hm?”

** **

“You’re still… hard.”

** **

He opened his eyes and glanced down. They were both looking down, too. He grunted dismissively. “It’ll go down eventually.”

** **

“Is that what you-” Parker started to ask, at the same time Hardison said, “you didn’t get to-”

** **

“No big deal, guys.”

** **

“But you  _ are _ into it, right?” Hardison asked, his arm suddenly tense beneath Eliot’s neck. “You were… I mean, you wanted to-”

** **

“Of course,” Eliot cut him off. “Wouldn’t be in this state if I hadn’t.”

** **

“Then can we-”

** **

Parker cut Hardison off this time. She leaned up over Eliot and licked her lips. “Eliot, may we give you a Christmas present?”

** **

Hardison looked confused, but Eliot knew exactly what she meant. “You don’t have to-”

** **

“We know. But would you  _ want _ us to. If it was something that would make us happy, too.”

** **

He looked at their eager faces - even if Hardison’s was still a little confused - and thought of his own selfish desires, easily dismissed before but now rising to the surface. He swallowed, hard.

** **

“Yeah.”

** **

Parker made a high pitched sound of happiness and Hardison laughed. “I have  _ no _ idea what kinda kinky holiday traditions ya’ll are talkin about, but if this is what Christmas presents entail now, count me in. Twice.”

** **

He slid his hand down Eliot’s flanks, the muscles beneath the skin rippling in reaction to the touch. Parker didn’t bother with build up. She reached down and wrapped her hand around Eliot’s cock. His whole body jerked in reaction.

** **

“Easy, woman,” Hardison admonished softly. “Remember, it’s a safe, not a zipline.”

** **

Eliot thought it was safe to assume there’d been a conversation about that he hadn’t been a part of, but he was grateful when Parker gentled her touch in response.

** **

Hardison was pressing open mouthed kisses down the side of Eliot’s neck, his hand still oh-so-slowly sliding closer to Eliot’s cock. It wasn’t hesitant, but it was cautious. Like he wasn’t sure of his welcome on Eliot’s body. Eliot wanted to say that nothing could be further from the truth, that he and Parker owned Eliot body and soul, but the words were trapped in his throat.

** **

Something was buzzing under his skin, not  _ bad, _ but uncomfortable. His stomach felt knotted. He tried to tell himself it was anticipation of his orgasm, or some lingering anxiety about being in bed with them, but that wasn’t it.

** **

Hardison’s mouth had moved to Eliot’s pectoral, lips close to the sensitive nipple. His hand had finally joined Parker’s and they were stroking him together, fingers entwined. It all felt so fucking  _ good. _ So why was he starting to sweat? Why was he fighting nauseating waves of  _ not right not right not right? _

** **

Hardison’s mouth didn’t stop its southern descent at Eliot’s chest. It kept going, trailing down his stomach, across his hips… Hardison’s breath ghosted across the head of Eliot’s cock. There was a pause, then his tongue swiped over it, and Eliot shuddered. Against his will, a low groan escaped his throat.

** **

It felt so good, so good. Parker moved down his body, too. She held Eliot’s hand in one of hers and kept the other wrapped around the base of Eliot’s erection while her tongue joined Hardison’s. And  _ oh fuck, _ that was so hot, the two of them taking him into their mouths, sharing a filthy kiss on his cock. Hardison’s hand took Eliot’s free one, and they were a completed circuit, connected, entwined in each other entirely. It was everything Eliot had ever dared dream for.

** **

Everything he’d known that he wasn’t worthy of. Everything he should never have taken from them. 

** **

_ Selfish _

** **

_ Worthless _

** **

_ Bastard _

** **

Making them service him like this, taking from them without giving back, failing to do the one thing he’d promised he’d always do, twisting the love they felt for him into some self-centered, perverted-

** **

“Stop!”

** **

Parker and Hardison immediately released him and sat back. Eliot’s chest was billowing, his hands shaking. He couldn’t look at them.

** **

“Eliot?” Parker’s voice was soft, calming, as though she was talking to a wild animal. How appropriate. His muscles clenched when she laid a gentle hand on his stomach, but he grabbed it before she could mistake the flinch and pull away. He didn’t want her to ever think that he disliked her touch.

** **

“I- I can’t,” he rasped. “Not like this.”

** **

“Was it too much?” Hardison asked. “We can slow down, or not double team you like that, or-”

** **

“No, I just…” Eliot ran a still trembling hand over his face. “I can’t, like that. With it all on me. It feels… wrong.”

** **

Parker studied him, and when she spoke again, her words were slow, trying to see it the way he did, trying to solve the problem. “Because it’s us giving you a present, and not you giving us one?”

** **

He nodded.

** **

“Do you- not think you deserve presents?”

** **

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Of course he didn’t deserve to receive pleasure at their hands, especially not when he wasn’t  _ earning _ it by giving himself to them. But even in his head that sounded bat-shit-crazy. But he couldn’t change how he felt. Not in the next half hour, certainly.

** **

When he didn’t answer, Parker seemed to take that as reply. “Is there anything we could do different? Anything that might help?”

** **

Beside her, Hardison, catching on to the ‘presents’ metaphor, reached out and laid his hand on Eliot as well. “Please,” he added. “We  _ want _ to.”

** **

Eliot thought he knew what he needed, but  _ fuck _ he was going to be asking  _ more _ from them, and wasn’t that just fucking twisted? That he couldn’t even just let them get him off, he needed yet another thing from them. But when they were both looking at him like that,  _ vulnerable, _ open to him, pleading for him to let them…

** **

“Just… just let me make you feel good again.”

** **

“And we can all have presents together?” Parker asked.

** **

“Yeah, darlin. Together. That’ll be better.”

** **

“I’ll be a corpse before I say no to that,” Hardison offered with a slow smile. “How d’you want us?”

** **

There it was again,  _ want. _ Eliot’s wants. Eliot’s needs. Selfish, through and through-

** **

“I want you inside me this time,” Parker cut into the whirling thoughts. The relief on his face must have been palpable, because she gave him a little nod, just enough for him to notice. He gave her one back, grateful.

** **

Parker took charge, crafting the situation to suit them all. Someday, Eliot thought, she’d make one hell of a mastermind. In a minute flat, she had herself and Eliot on the floor, with Hardison standing above them. The floor would be murder on Eliot’s knees, even with a pillow under them, but one glance at Hardison’s height and the low ceiling had told them all that him standing on the bed wasn’t an option.

** **

Parker was stretched out on her back like some pagan offering, her thighs hooked over Eliot’s. Hardison was standing, one foot on either side of her hips, his half hard cock at perfect level with a kneeling Eliot’s mouth.

** **

It took one thrust for Eliot to drive himself into Parker’s wet, willing body. Her back arched and her nails dug into his thighs deliciously. She clamped down on his cock like a vice. Eliot swallowed down Hardison’s length to stifle his moan.

** **

_ This _ was what he needed. To not just be passively receiving from them, but orchestrating their pleasure. He couldn’t let go enough to stop thinking of what he should be doing, what they should be getting. He needed to be in control - not mastermining, that was clearly going to be Parker’s job, but doing what he did best. Using his body like the finely tuned tool it was. Giving to them, like he always had been.

** **

Eliot could already see where this could go. Parker, coming up with the plans and Eliot taking charge to make them happen. Hardison’d probably be printing kinky articles and leaving them out for Parker to find, procuring supplies - because Eliot had no doubt that at some point they would need them - and generally keeping them just the North side of crazy.

** **

It could be so  _ good. _

** **

Eliot’s hand slid lower on Parker’s belly, his thumb straying to her clit. He kept the touches light, teasing. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been shuddering her way through her  _ first _ ever orgasm in his arms, and now he was trying to coax her into multiple orgasms.

** **

But Parker was… Parker. She was open to him, fully trusting him to take care of her. Under his careful touches, the tiny pearl became stiff again. He could feel her pulse beating there, her heart racing. Each time she clenched around him, he felt it like a livewire. And Hardison above him, threading those long fingers into Eliot’s hair, moaning loudly each time Eliot took him deep… Eliot felt the pull of orgasm at the base of his spine and ignored it. It could wait. He wouldn’t be done until  _ they _ were done. But if the way Hardison’s hands were tightening in his hair and Parker’s nails were digging into the muscles of his thighs were any indication, they weren’t that far behind him.

** **

Hardison went first. He made a clumsy attempt to pull Eliot away, but Eliot wouldn’t be moved. He kept his mouth on Hardison until the end, when Hardison was squirming and shifting his feet. Then Parker caught her breath in a silent scream, and Eliot worked her through it.

** **

And then, it was just him, caught on the edge of nirvana, waiting for permission to fall. He looked up at Hardison, stroking Eliot’s jaw tenderly even as he shifted away. Looked down at Parker, limp and blissed out beneath him, her lips moving but her voice so quiet that he had to lean down over her to hear it.

** **

“Eliot.”

** **

He felt that whisper all the way to his cock. He thrust inside her again, body straining. Hardison stroked up his back, and Eliot growled at the pleasure of it.

** **

“Please…”

** **

And that was it, he was lost. He wrapped his hands under her shoulders, pulled her tightly to him, and thrust wildly half a dozen more times until he spilled inside her.

** **

Pure, unadulterated bliss.

** **

It felt like only a few seconds, though it must have been longer because the sweat on his skin had started to cool, before Hardison was coaxing Eliot and Parker back onto the bed. No, the hard wood floor hadn’t done Eliot’s knees any favors, but he lifted Parker easily, letting Hardison steer him.

** **

They rolled on the bed, shifting around like pieces in a slide puzzle until they found the way they fit. Parker on the side of the bed closest to the window - no surprise there - Hardison in the middle, and Eliot between them and the door. Between them and the rest of the world. Between them and any danger that might come their way.

** **

“Love you,” he whispered huskily, into the darkness of the room. It needed saying; they deserved to hear it, not just an assumption, not just a lack of denial, but from his own lips. And Eliot figured he should say it here, in the safety of the dark. In case he didn’t get another chance.

** **

“I do too,” Parker echoed quietly.

** **

“Mm… love…” Hardison’s voice trailed off as he slipped into sleep. 

** **

_ Damnit, Hardison, _ Eliot thought, barely smothering an affectionate smile. He closed his eyes, and let himself follow.

** **

***

** **

The memory didn’t come trickling back to Eliot like they sometimes did. It didn’t dance across his mind, suspended in the pre-dawn light, just barely out of reach. 

** **

The memory had never really left, because he’d replayed it even in his sleep, dreaming of what they’d done.

** **

He kept himself relaxed, breathing deep and even, not giving away his wakefulness.

** **

So. He’d fucked his partners.

** **

Not as a psuedo sex coach, not only to fullfill some need they had, but because they’d wanted him and he’d wanted them. Because they loved him, and God knew he loved them, and because he’d been helpless to resist the temptation of their desires.

** **

He needed to assess, regroup, and do damage control.

** **

It was entirely possible that, love or no love, they would be done with him now that they’d taken him to bed. No, not done as the team, he knew them better than that. But the two of them had a solid relationship separate from him, and it was probable that one of them would have decided that adding a third in didn’t work for them.

** **

If that was the case, Eliot would bow out as quickly and quietly as he could. Even if he’d known that would be the conclusion, he’d have still fallen into their arms. Because they had wanted him, and that was enough, even if it was only for one night.

** **

It was also possible that, on the other end of the spectrum, they would want to continue this. The sex had been undeniably fantastic, his own shortcomings aside, and they did care for him. It was no big leap for them to go from partners, to partners  _ and _ lovers. He was already dedicated to them, cooked for them, protected them, provided anything he thought they needed or wanted. For all its complications, sex was simple enough to add into their equasion. And really, being the occasional third to them was far from a hardship. Nothing much had to change, except sometimes he’d be sneaking home to change before coming back and making them breakfast. It wasn’t like he was going to push them to give him a label. It was enough to be with them this way.

** **

His mind flitted, briefly, to a third possibility. That they had really meant everything they’d said the night before. That they might want  _ more _ from him. Not a nightly guest, but one third of a triangle, equilateral and unbreakable. What would he do then, if they wanted  _ all _ of him?

** **

Not just the beast who existed to serve them, or the unaffected mask he wore on the job, but his dark past, his self-hatred, his doubts, his fears, his insolent, selfish fantasies.

** **

He knew it was a burden he shouldn’t put on them. From the very beginning, he’d always known that they deserved better. Someone who didn’t have a price on his head in six countries and monsters behind him who would use anyone he cared about against him if they got the chance. Someone who wasn’t eaten alive by his self-loathing. Someone whose mind wasn’t a maze of glass, where one shatter could turn him into an instinct driven beast or a self-destructive emotional cripple.

** **

The problem was that just like  _ murderer _ and  _ protector, _ he’d gotten used to seeing the  _ selfish bastard _ in the mirror. He was afraid, if they were still offering it, he’d decide it was worth seeing that face in the mirror every morning.

** **

“Have you sorted it out?”

** **

Parker’s low whisper didn’t make Eliot start, because he’d been trained better than that, but his heart skipped a beat. He opened his eyes, and found her watching him from where her head was pillowed on Hardison’s chest.

** **

“Nothin to sort out.”

** **

She snorted. 

** **

It was strange, seeing her like this in the daylight. Their routine was to allow the other parts of themselves to show only in the dark. But this- the Parker in front of him, was still the vulnerable one from the night before. Her hair was a nest, her cheek had lines from laying on it scrunched, there were circles under her eyes from too much physical activity and not enough sleep.

** **

His own mask slipped, just a little.

** **

“We’ll take whatever you’ll give us, Eliot. We won’t ask any more of you than you want to give. But-” she shrugged. “You know what we want.”

** **

He swallowed hard. Moment of truth, then. “An what’s that?”

** **

_ “You, _ Eliot. Don’t you believe us yet? You fit here, with us. And we want as much of you as you’re willing to give.”

** **

“A single night’s one thing, but tryin to add a third permanently could mess up what you’an Hardison already have.”

** **

“What’s between him and I isn’t  _ more _ important than what’s between you and I. Or what’s between you and him. What’s between the three of us. You’re not an afterthought, Eliot. If we succeed, we do it together. If we fail, we do that together too.”

** **

Eliot glanced at Hardison, sleeping through Eliot being led down a path that could ruin them all. “I- I ain’t whole, Parker. You know that. There’r parts of me that you don’t see - that I keep hidden because you don’t need to be burdened with that shit. I couldn’t-”

** **

“You mean like the parts of me that feel worthless, like a freak, broken, damaged beyond repair? The parts of Hardison that feel like he’ll never be good enough? The parts of him that will always be trying to carve out his place in the world, because for so long he didn’t have one? The part of me that lashes out when things get overwhelming?

** **

“Or the parts of you that I see even though you don’t want me to. The part of you that hates yourself for the things you’ve done. The part of you that shuts down everything but the urge to  _ give _ when you see a need in us. The part of you that is terrified once you get everything you want, you’ll lose it, because you think you don’t deserve happiness.”

** **

Eliot was dumbfounded. Had he really been so transparent?

** **

“We all have parts of ourselves that we slip in and out of sometimes. Faces we wear because we have to or because something jerks us into that mindset. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Eliot. Hardison- he’s been teaching me that it’s okay to be different. We have facets. Like a diamond. And everyone loves diamonds.”

** **

She shrugged, like that solved everything.

** **

Parker was such a mass of contradictions. She could be so naive but so wise. So innocent but so filthy. So timid and so brash. She could crawl into his bed and ask him to teach her pleasure, then later pull him into her own bed and teach him how to accept himself, just a little.

** **

She was gonna be the death of him, of that he was sure. But he knew there was no better way to go.

** **

“Alec’s a smart man,” Eliot said slowly. Beside him, Hardison stirred.

** **

“Alec’s a  _ very _ smart man,” he agreed sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes. “Alec’s smart enough to know that this’s gonna work out, and not bother discussing it at ungodly hours in the morning after a night of acrobatic, very satisfying sex.”

** **

“He’s got a point,” Parker said with a solemn nod.

** **

Eliot slowly nodded back, and just like that, it was done.

** **

***

** **

By the time Nate and Sophie bowed out of the Leverage team, Parker, Hardison, and Eliot had settled into a comfortable routine. Routine didn’t mean  _ boring, _ of course, because no relationship with a crazy master thief and a genius hacker could ever be boring. But it was secure. It was solid. It was something they could rely on, when everything around them was in chaos.

** **

It was an anchor that, as it turned out, they’d  _ all _ needed.

** **

When Nate had said to Eliot  _ you never, never need anything, _ he had no idea just how true Eliot’s reply had been.  _ Yeah, I did. But thanks to you I don't have to search any more. _

** **

Eliot didn’t want to think where the three of them would have ended up if they hadn’t found each other. Hardison probably would’ve pushed a situation too far trying to prove himself and ended up in a kind of lock down where Wi-Fi was unheard of. Parker might’ve gotten along by herself for the longest of them, but if her outrageous risk taking hadn’t gotten her killed by the time Archie called her in against the Staranko, she’d have been taken out there for sure.

** **

And Eliot… It was possible that he would have kept going, kept forcing himself along from one job to another until someone somewhere got the better of him or he just gave up. It was also possible that one day the faces watching him from behind the glass would have pressed just a little too close, and he would’ve put a bullet between his eyes.

** **

No, not something he liked to think about.

** **

But he was especially thankful for the way his life had turned out on mornings like this. When the sunlight coming in through the window was making the tangle of Parker’s hair glow, and she was sprawled out across Eliot and Hardison both. And Hardison was sleeping so deeply that he was drooling a little on Eliot’s shoulder (if Eliot hadn’t fucked him into oblivion the night before, he might’ve resented the tiny puddle forming on his skin). And when Eliot woke up not feeling like a visitor in his own mind. When he could be a killer, and an animal, and a protector, and a man unworthy of the happiness he’d been given, and he didn’t have to try and keep those things separated out all the time. The walls could come down, on occasion, and he could just  _ be. _

** **

Of course, he knew that when Parker woke up she’d start demanding breakfast, and wheedling to get as much sugar packed into the meal as possible. And that Hardison would be embarrassed about the drool and try and claim that Eliot had drooled on his own shoulder. And Hardison and Parker would bicker about where they were going for lunch, and eventually Eliot would have to separate them like naughty children.

** **

He found himself smiling, looking forward to every minute of it.


	3. Alternate POV drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little snippets of Parker and Hardison's POV at various times after the end of the story.

Parker had no complaints about their sex life. For someone who’d never thought she’d really enjoy it, she was certainly having a lot of mind-blowing, innovative sex now.

No, she couldn’t  _ complain,  _ but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t room for… expansion. What she really wanted, when it came right down to it, was to solve Eliot. He was a puzzle that she couldn’t quite figure out, a safe she hadn’t been able to crack. Amid all the fantastic sex they’d been having, he still hadn’t let down his guard enough to orgasm if he wasn’t focused on pleasuring  _ them. _

She understood why he struggled with it. He’d made significant strides in his self-esteem, in accepting himself as someone worthy of love, but his whole identity was still built around what he could give them.

Parker wanted him to be able to let them take care of him, too. His exceptional generosity in bed wasn’t a bad thing, no, but he should be able to let them return it. He was the one who’d taught her about giving orgasms feeling as good as giving Christmas presents. She wanted to be able to give him Christmas presents without him always needing to give her a dozen back.

(Well, a dozen was, usually, an exaggeration. But on average, it was at least three, not even counting the presents Hardison got.)

There had to be a way to make him realize that a) he didn’t have to  _ earn _ his pleasure, and b) they enjoyed giving him pleasure almost as much as they enjoyed receiving it from him. That they  _ wanted _ it, and it made them  _ happy _ and-

And just like that, Parker had the answer.

  
  
  


When Parker settled back against the headboard and spread her legs that night, Eliot automatically started to go between them. They had a system that worked very well for all of them. Parker came up with increasingly wild sexual scenarios for them, laid out her plans to Eliot, and he made them all fall in line. Or, if they were taking a break from the more exotic set-ups - usually because Hardison needed some old fashioned TLC - Parker and Hardison would wait on the bed for Eliot to come in and spend the rest of the night pleasuring them.

It was a good system, really.

Which was probably why Eliot looked so confused when Parker turned him around so that his back was to her chest. Still, he complied easily enough. He likely assumed she had a plan that she just hadn’t told him the details of. They’d been talking about Hardison getting comfortable with topping him. But even though that was definitely something they would get around to, it wasn’t on the agenda quite yet.

Eliot didn’t even bat a lash until Hardison climbed onto the bed and started kissing his way up Eliot’s thigh. Eliot couldn’t reach either of them to touch them erotically. He turned his head, eyeing Parker curiously. She smiled.

“Y’know, if you came around here, I could lean back… and you could ride my face while watchin the show.”

“Tomorrow,” she promised. Maybe while Hardison was fucking him. They’d both like that.

“Then how about he and I switch places? I’ll get him all warmed up, and he can fuck you while I fuck him?”

Tempting as that was… “Nope.”

Hardison’s mouth had reached Eliot’s erection. His stomach clenched in pleasure as Hardison’s tongue traced up the length of it.

“Parker…”

“I want you to do something for me. For us.” She glanced down at Hardison, who nodded his agreement while taking the head of Eliot’s cock in his mouth. “I want you to close your eyes.”

He obeyed without question, and just that alone was a thrill to Parker. How much he trusted them. This man who expected the worst from the world, who was constantly on guard, would put himself totally at their mercy. 

His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling sharply at Hardison continued to work over his cock.

“Think about how much we love this,” she whispered in his ear. The muscles in his stomach clenched again. “Think about how arousing this is, for us to get to have you in our bed, to get to see you like this. Only us.”

“Only you,” Eliot agreed, eyes still closed. There hadn’t been any others for him, not since they’d invited him to their bed. Why would he ever want anything else?

“Think about how much we love tasting you. Knowing that you’re hard for us, that you want us too. Think about how much we love touching you. Feeling you warm and alive under our hands.”

Hardison moaned on Eliot’s cock, and Eliot mirrored the sound.

“Think about how much we love  _ you. _ The way you make us feel so special, so safe, so accepted. How much we love your heart, and your body, and your strength. How much we love that you never stop giving to us, and that you let us give ourselves back to you.” Her hands brushed down over his shoulders to his pectorals. She slid her fingers through the coarse hair there, then skimmed along his nipples.

He growled.

“Now open your eyes.” She waited until he complied, and whispered in his ear again. “Look at him down there. Can you see it in his eyes? How much he likes having your cock in his mouth? How he’s savoring the taste of you? How he’d spend all day doing this if you let him?” And that was true. Hardison loved being able to make the tough as nails hitter come undone with his tongue alone. It was a power trip and a turn on and a thrill unlike any other.

“Now look further down,” Parker instructed. “Can you see between his legs?” Hardison widened his kneeling position to make it easier. “See how hard he is? That’s from blowing you. He’s so turned on by it. He’s enjoying it so much that I bet it feels almost as good as if your hand was on him.” Hardison moaned agreement. “I bet he wants more than anything for you to come down his throat.” 

Another moan of agreement, longer and lower this time. Eliot’s muscles were straining. He was barely holding himself in check. Still, it wasn’t quite enough. Parker slipped one of her hands between her body and his, taking the time to rub her clit wantonly before dipping her fingers inside herself.

She brought them back up and held them to Eliot’s lips.

“Open.”

His mouth opened and he started to lick her fingers clean as soon as she put them on his tongue. “See how wet this has gotten me? How hot it is, watching him go down on you, seeing you get closer and closer to the edge? Do you have any idea how sexy it is to know that  _ we _ are the ones making you feel so good?”

He sucked her fingers clean and then started teasing her, nibbling her fingertips, tracing the tip of his tongue along the sensitive webbing between her fingers.

“Do you know what we want, Eliot?”

He made a sound that wasn’t quite a groan and shook his head.

“We want you to come for us. We want to see you completely undone, and know that  _ we _ did it. We want to give you so much pleasure your head spins. Right now, that’s what we want more than anything. Can you give that to us, Eliot?”

Then he did groan, low and rough. His hand lifted behind his head to thrust into Parker’s hair. She barely had time to pull her fingers out of his mouth before he angled her head down for a bruising kiss.

He moaned into her mouth, his whole body straining as he fought to let himself go, to give them this thing that they were asking for, to accept that it wasn’t selfish to let them pleasure him.

Hardison did something with his hands - probably external prostate stimulation, he’d been doing research on that - and then Eliot arched up, stayed like that, taut as a piano wire for one heart beat, two-

And collapsed back down, his curse of pleasure muffled by Parker’s mouth.

Hardison swallowed audibly and then lifted his head, a cat-got-the-cream grin on his face.

“Do you have any idea how fuckin hot that was?” he asked Eliot. Eliot tried to growl, but it came out closer to a purr.

“Shut up.” Even that sounded affectionate.

Parker laughed, both pleased and proud of herself. She wasn’t known as the best safe cracker in the world for nothing. Eliot was probably the most complex lock she’d ever tackled, and now that she’d done it once, she couldn’t wait to do it again.

Yes, he spent the rest of the night  _ worshipping _ their bodies and giving them so much pleasure that at one point Hardison literally blacked out from it. But Eliot had let them in. He’d allowed himself to be more than just a giver. And he would likely always be more comfortable focusing on their pleasure instead of his own, but now he knew that he  _ could _ accept their ministrations.

It was a start. And for Parker, that was enough.

***

Hardison watched the two bodies snuggled together on the bed. It wasn’t often that he was awake before them, so he took his time enjoying the sight.

There were times when he wondered what his Nana would’ve said if she’d lived long enough to meet them. She probably wouldn’t have been impressed that he was involved in some kind of ‘new age, orgy relationship.’ And he could hear her calling it that in her exact voice and everything.

But then, Nana would’ve adored Eliot’s touch in the kitchen, and fallen in love with Parker’s childlike wonder at Christmas, and she would have taken one look at the way he watched them with dopey, love-struck eyes (he heard  _ that _ in Nana’s voice too) and she would’ve known that he was happy. And really, that was all that had ever mattered to her.

She would have been proud of him for finding his little family. And she would’ve definitely approved of the calming, maturing effect Parker and Eliot had had on him. He knew that it had always stung her, a little, that he’d grown up with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Looking back, it was easy to see how hard she’d worked to make every child she took in feel like they were  _ home _ when they came to her.

It wasn’t her fault that Hardison had never really felt like he had a place in the world. He couldn’t see it at the time. Now, though, he knew where his place was. And there was a kind of security that came with the feeling. Sure, he still sometimes oversold a grift, or got a little too cocky, but it wasn’t because he constantly needed to prove himself any more. He didn’t need to earn anyone's affection or acceptance.

He had both of them, unconditionally, in the people currently hogging his California King bed.

He shook his head, thinking with fond exasperation that it shouldn't be possible for two bodies to take up quite that much space. 

So, no, Nana might not have understood at first. She would have looked at gruff, scarred Eliot with suspicion, and she would’ve watched Parker the way she might watch a science experiment she didn’t quite understand but was sure was going to blow up. But she also wouldn’t have let appearances be the basis of her judgement, and when she looked a little deeper, she would have been satisfied.

And because the woman had never had much filter, she probably would’ve told Hardison to get a bigger bed.

He did  _ not _ want to think about his Nana thinking about his bed. But really, it was true. The enormous bed  _ should _ have been big enough for the three of them, but mattress manufacturers hadn’t accounted for starfish Parker and ‘I like to cuddle but sometimes don’t come near me’ Eliot.

Parker had once suggested that they string trampoline net across the whole room and sleep on that. He’d laughed it off, but now he was beginning to see the appeal. Then again, he didn’t want to even  _ think _ about what sexual acrobatics she’d want to get up to on a bed like that…

It was strange, they usually started the night piled so closely together that they’d be able to fit on a twin bed with a little room to spare. Eliot almost always kept to whatever side was closest to the door - though they’d started easing him into the idea of being in the middle more often - and Hardison and Parker switching out who took the middle and who took the outside. Sometimes Parker wanted to be a ‘Parker sandwich,’ as she called it, but more often she wanted the edge too. Which meant that most of the time, Hardison was pressed between the two of them. Not that he was gonna complain about  _ that. _

Sure, simple measurements would say that he ought to be the big spoon of their set, but he could admit that when it was his choice, he’d pick small spoon almost every day of the week.

And if they stayed all spooned up together all night, the dang bed wouldn’t be a problem. But of course, Hardison had picked some of the most complicated people in the world as his partners, so most nights Parker ended up spread eagle, no matter where she was in the bed, and some nights Eliot scooted as far across the mattress as he could to put some space between them. Hardison was convinced Eliot was going to fall out of the damn bed one of these nights.

So yeah, maybe it was time to follow the advice his Nana would’ve given.

She also would’ve told him that he needed to make an honest man and woman out of them, even knowing that there wasn’t a legal way to do it… and maybe it was about time he did that, too.

He smiled and went to look up custom made mattresses, and custom made rings.


End file.
